


blue

by bodhirooks



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 'One-Sided' Karl/Stephen refers to Tony, Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Author doesn't know what they're doing, Bruce Banner is Funny, College AU, Everyone is Iron Man?, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Insecure Tony, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Obadiah is Mean, Pepper is There, Real Life Superheroes, Romantic Rivalry, Semi-Explicit Sexy Times, Stephen is Anxious, Stephen is Not a Wizard, Stephen is Shook, Stephen is a Wizard Now?, Stephen is the Guy in the Chair, They Just Work Here, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Thinks there's Karl/Stephen, Tony is Boyfriend Material, Tony is Stephen's Sugar Daddy, Tony isn't Iron Man, Update: Tony is Iron Man, Wong is the Roommate, Young idiots, but Ambiguous Ending, funny?, gratuitous texting, kind of?, no one's a superhero, not yet, now the sexy times are explicit, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirooks/pseuds/bodhirooks
Summary: Around the same age as Stephen - had to be. But clearly provided for. The goatee was a bit more scruffy than he’d thought, but the eyes were like dark pools of mud. Not chocolate - mud, Stephen decided. They held each other’s gaze for a short time before the man rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.“For the bus,” he explained, dropping it into Stephen’s lap. “Keep the change.” Stephen gawked. Should he be offended?After the accident, Stephen is destitute in more ways than one. Until a certain billionaire waltzes into his life.





	1. bus stop

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone
> 
> I've been working on this for quite some time now - nearly three months, all told - and I feel like there's finally enough substance to start posting installments! What started out as a bunch of ideas all mushed together has turned into something much more coherent. It's far from finished, but I'm proud of what I've done so far! This is the first of several chapters I've already written. 
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> ☺

Light bounced off murky pools of water drowning sidewalk curbs. Ambient noise spilled from open doors and car horns echoed in the city night, hollow and metallic in a landscape of corporate buildings and skyscrapers. Men in tight suits strolled the concrete jungle, eyes glued to mobiles or Apple watches. Aside from the obvious traces of advertising, culture and tech, the scene itself seemed to come straight out of film noir. Stephen noted this passively, huddled in a massive hoodie under the awning of a bus-stop, crouched down beside a bench, shielded from the misty rain by plexiglass barriers plastered with movie posters.

It wasn’t often he found himself out on a night like this, let alone in baggy clothes or buried in his phone screen. Rain had been pounding down for nearly a week, and the lack of sun, the lack of company, the lack of not having to worry about paying for his graduate degree seemed to press down on him with physical force, bending the ground beneath him.

Blinking against the blue light but refusing to look away, Stephen scrolled through Instagram, then Twitter, then Facebook. His tech-gloves scratched against the screen as he thumbed away. He read it all without absorbing it. Anything to distract him. It was a hollow sort of feeling - the kind hiding in your stomach, reminding you with a headache - that he needed a distraction from.

The wet squeal of tire breaks brought him back into the world. He pocketed his phone and glanced up, watching as people disembarked the city transit bus. No one got on. Stephen wasn’t actually waiting for the bus. Waiting for something else.

Departing, the bus pulled out onto the near-deserted street, taking the far lane to avoid hitting a long, dark Cadillac. Stephen squinted a bit, drawn by its sleek shimmer and a man in a dark suit, obviously impatient to pick up his fare. The man was close to being tall, with a thick build and a round face. Perhaps he’d be a kindly man if he wasn’t waiting in the dark.

What Stephen thought was a Cadillac _was_ a Cadillac, but not a car. It was a limousine, and Stephen thought a limousine was a bit much, even for uptown Yuppies like the ones who occupied the buildings here. Stephen had been walking for a while before he plopped down to start his waiting. Knew the area, but not much.

The man - security guard, chauffeur? - finally spotted his fare, spreading his arms in exasperation and crying something Stephen couldn’t hear. A young man had bounded from one of the high-rises, tight-suited and bearing a mischievous, un-apologetic grin. Around the same height as his chauffeur, he was thin and proper with dark hair and a well-trimmed goatee. Straight-cut as he looked, there was something roguish about him, if the hand on the hip and the flippant gestures weren’t enough to go by. Stephen watched curiously. That could have been him.

Opening the rear door, the chauffeur beckoned impatiently. Put-upon, the young man heaved an exaggerated sigh, shoulders hiking and falling so even Stephen could see it at a distance. Glancing around him, turning a complete one-eighty, he craned his neck up towards the sky before letting his chin drop. His gaze landed on Stephen.

A bit embarrassed, Stephen made a point not to look away straight off, but after an awkward few moments of empty staring he took his phone out again and opened his emails. Attentively he waited for the sound of the limo peeling away.

Instead, what he got were hollow footsteps, approaching him on the concrete. Not looking up, Stephen stared hazily at his phone, trying not to hold his breath. What had he done, offend the guy? By sitting on the sidewalk and looking at him?

Pristinely polished shoes entered his peripheral vision. Unable not to, Stephen followed the line of the smooth leather up, up the narrow pants and tailored suit and strong neck to the surprisingly-handsome-up-close face.

Around the same age as Stephen - had to be. But clearly provided for. The goatee was a bit more scruffy than he’d thought, but the eyes were like dark pools of mud. Not chocolate - mud, Stephen decided. They held each other’s gaze for a short time before the man rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“For the bus,” he explained, dropping it into Stephen’s lap. “Keep the change.” Stephen gawked. Should he be offended?

Not seeming to care either way (nor to wait for a thank-you), the man walked away. Stephen stared openly after him, watching as he hopped into the limo and disappeared.

Something odd turned around in Stephens’ chest. With an empty stare his eyes continued to rest where the Cadillac had been, and he kept reimagining the man’s face, over and over, like time was stuck in an indefinite loop. His head felt fuzzy with something, something. Attraction, maybe, but more than that. Something he hadn’t had, wasn’t able to keep and hang on to, not after the accident, not after blindly following the motions of grad school for no reason. Maybe it was hope.

Maybe if he came back he’d get another twenty.

 

* * *

 

Stephen did come back. Weather much colder than the week before - he hadn’t had time to walk all the way here before now, with papers and exams and physical therapy - prompted him to bundle up by layering two hoodies, a scarf and some mittens. All old things, but home. He sat on the curb under the bus stop, watching his breath turn to fog in the fluorescent light.

The limousine returned. Once more the chauffeur stepped out the driver’s side, looking at his watch impatiently. Soon the same man came bounding out the nearby building, late but not as late, if his driver’s expression was anything to go by. Again, the man spun around, looking everywhere with a strange delight. Like the city was his. Their eyes met again. Stephen looked down at his phone _much_ more abruptly.

What was he even doing here? Sitting on the street hoping this random guy would bring him money? Attention? _Desperate, Stephen, desperate!_ Close to leaving, he was only stopped by that same voice above him.

“Back again? Or this your usual hang-out?”

He looked nearly the same. Prim and proper, weird charisma, a smile that was more of a smirk than anything. Stephen liked him.

“Not usually,” Stephen admitted, throat hoarse. Sounded like a cold - serves him right for sitting in the rain, damn it.

Nodding, the man took a seat next to him. Unbothered by the chill it seemed, or at least unbothered by sitting on the pavement when there was a perfectly good bench a foot away. “What, hoping for more handouts?” Grinning, but Stephen looked down, embarrassed.

“So… Law school?” the man guessed, perfectly content to make the driver wait and play games.

“Medical school.”

An apologetic wince, and boy did Stephen need that. “More than twenty, then,” he said, and suddenly the man’s wallet was open, fingers rifling through-

“Hey!” Stephen protested, trying to close the man’s wallet or push it away or _whatever._ Twenty bucks, fine, but anything more was a bit too much for his dignity.

Scoffing, the man shook his head. “I don’t get it? You want money or not, dude?”

Stephen’s embarrassment only increased. Conscious his cheeks were turning pink, he sighed, looking whoever this charitable madman was in the face. “More than twenty is obnoxious,” and that sounded much harsher than he wanted it to be. _Gratitude, Stephen, geeze._

“My paycheck, my rules,” the man said. “Not like I worked for much of it anyway.” Stephen frowned, confused by the words and the self-deprecating grin, but didn’t complain when fifty bucks landed in his lap. “There, maybe that’s a quarter of a textbook.”

“Thank you…”

“No problem.” The man stood up, smoothing down his suit and waving at the driver. “I’m Tony Stark by the way.” He extended a hand.

“Stark?”

“Know the name?”

“I’m not from the city, I’m from Philadelphia… Familiar, though.”

“Look it up sometime.” The man - Tony - winked, and Stephen felt heat rise to his cheeks, again. Unable to avoid shaking his hand, Stephen slowly raised his mitted one, trying to quiet the tremor. Their palms met, but if his was shaking as usual Tony didn’t notice.

“See ya 'round, maybe.” Tony gave him a mock salute and turned away, half-running to his chauffeur, who stood impatient and bored.  

Once Tony began walking off Stephen also found himself bored, pulling out his phone. Like last time he kept an ear peeled for the sound of the limo driving off, but instead footsteps came running back. Stephen kept his face in his phone and would not hope for the best.

“Gimme that.”

“Hey!” Stephen cried, looking up with shock and offense as his phone was wrenched from his hand. Tony stood with a satisfied little grin. All Stephen could do was gape in outrage.

“There, that’s my number. If you need anything just text me and I’ll put some money in your account or send food or whatever. I’m assuming you’re at NYU?”

Stephen’s anger quickly turned to confusion. “You… what?”

“NYU, School of Medicine?” Tony repeated.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Good. If you need anything I’ll send it.” Thankfully Tony did _not_ toss Stephen his phone. Instead he handed it back, and Stephen took it, hand trembling and visually so. He looked down at the screen, and sure enough his address book was open to a new contact: Tony Stark with three money emojis. “Thank you, you… You’re kidding, right?” Stephen glanced up, apprehensive.

“Nah.” Tony shrugged, like he offered to recharge people’s bank accounts on the daily. “Just nothing _outrageous_ , yeah?” He winked.

“Okay…” Stephen’s voice was not assertive, nor grateful nor emotional at all. Dumbfounded, really.

“Cool. See ya 'round,” and this time Tony really left.

Staring where the car had been like he had a week ago, Stephen took a moment to wrap his brain around what just happened. Tony… was trying to help him. They’d met twice, spoken once, spent a total of three minutes together. Stephen turned back to his phone.

**Tony Stark $$$**

Biting his lip, he opened Google and typed _Tony Stark NYC._

 

* * *

 

“So, you have a sugar daddy?”

“Absolutely not,” Stephen protested, feeling his bed dip as Wong sat next to him. He had his contacts open again, staring at Tony’s name.

“Come on,” his roommate insisted, “What else could he mean?” The man gave him a nudge and a wink. Stephen groaned.

“He was just being nice!” he protested for the umpteenth time.

“You should text him,” Wong said anyway.

“I don’t want to bother him, he’s already pretty much offered to pay for my groceries.”

“Just your groceries?” Wong chortled. “He’s Tony Stark, he’s filthy rich!”

So Stephen had discovered. His Google search lead him to the profile of a multi-millionaire, son of an arms producer. Playboy in his own right, if the image results were anything to go by. What had he gotten himself into?

“I’m not gonna ask him for anything more.”

Fading sunlight canceled out the glow of his phone, so Stephen changed position. His desk lay farther from the window, overlooking a dingy street of apartments equally as cramped as their own. It was a studio, basement-level, the sliver of glass letting light enough in to wake Stephen up in the morning. Yoga rugs served as his bedding. Wong’s bed was pressed against the adjacent wall - both their frames and mattresses as small as they’d come. There were two desks against the opposite wall, both lined with books of a wide variety. Meditation pillows sat at the foot of the closet. The bathroom and kitchenette were nearly non-existent.

Cramped, sure, but as cozy as they could make it. After the accident, Stephen was left with no financial assistance and couldn’t even hold down a part-time job. Wong’s charity was keeping him fed, and debt was keeping him in school and his phone bills paid.

“Text him,” Wong insisted, opening one of his tomes. Collecting them was a hobby.

“Fine…” Stephen pressed the ‘send message’ icon, thumbs wobbling over the keyboard before he slowly typed.

**Sent: Hello. This is Stephen, from the bus stop**

Good enough. Seconds later his phone buzzed.

**T: Helloooooooooo**

Stephen had to smile. Another message:

**T: Didnt actually know ur name was Stephen, u didnt say lolol**

**Sent: Oops**

**T: Put the fifty to good use?**

**Sent: Helped my roommate pay utility**

**T: Thats no fun :(:(**

**Sent: Not really, but it helped. Thank you.**

**T: YW!!!**

Stephen was ready to call it quits, satisfied and oddly happy. Moving to put his phone away, another text stopped him.

**T: So whats ur last name? Spielberg?**

**Sent: That the best you can do?**

Wincing at his blatant tease - _bit rude, presumptuous, bit rude_ \- Stephen waited for a reply.

**T: Probly not lol**

Stephen breathed a quick sigh of relief.

**Sent: It’s Strange. Stephen Strange**

**T: I was gonna say ‘thats Strange’ but I dont think u wanna be harassed w dad jokes xD**

**Sent: Ha, ha. I appreciate you sparing me**

“What’s he saying?” Wong inquired, clearly not focused on his reading.

“Puns.”

“Ha!”

**T: Consider urself lucky, I spare no one**

**Sent: I don’t doubt it**

**T: What, first impression that bad?**

Stephen snorted.

**Sent: I Googled you**

**T: Oooooooh, find anything interesting?**

**Sent: More than my eyes could handle**

**T: Okay but blame the paparazzi, I consider myself a private individual**

Stephen laughed.

**Sent: Somehow I don’t believe you.**

**T: For the record the women i/t celebitchy spread were just good friends**

Nose scrunching up in delight, Stephen had to admit this guy was… pretty fun.

**Sent: Suuuuuuuuuuuuure**

**T: Dont believe me? ':(**

**T: How much is ur rent?**

Stephen paused. He glanced up at Wong, now re-absorbed in his book. Long moments passed before he replied.

**Sent: Why are you doing this?**

******T: Tryna be friendly! Who doesnt need money help lol**

**T: Cept me lol**

**Sent: We’ve barely met and you’re trying to pay my rent**

On-the-nose, but something about Tony’s answer wasn’t… right. Didn’t feel like a proper reply. Not the reply Stephen wanted, anyway.

**T: Okay but you looked kinda cold and pathetic sitting out in the rain and I saw you not once but TWICE**

Admittedly a better answer. Stephen contemplated the reasoning - he supposed if he had money to spare and saw someone on the street more than once he’d do something. Maybe not this much, though. Perhaps that made him evil. He typed an answer, erased it, typed it again.

**Sent: Roommate thinks you’re my new sugar daddy**

Why. _Why did you send that, Stephen?_ Nervous energy pooled in his stomach. _Dumb thing to say!_ An immediate response nearly gave him a heart attack.

**T: OMGGGGGGGGGGGG im dying**

Face still flush with embarrassment, Stephen was overcome with good humor and relief. This conversation was a rollercoaster.

**T: Wait, NEW sugar daddy? Had one b4!!!? x'D**

Heart in his throat Stephen hammered out a reply.

**Sent: NO**

**Sent: ABSOLUTELY NOT**

**T: Bummer then id know what to expect**

Stephen prayed that was a joke.

**T: So med-school? Ur gonna be Dr. Strange lol how comforting for ur patients**

Praise be, a change of subject.

**Sent: Maybe. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to graduate**

**T: Y not? :(**

Stephen sighed. That was one of many things he’d avoid talking about at all costs.

**Sent: Complicated.**

**T: Explain it to me**

He tried to come up with an excuse.

**Sent: Really long story, you’d be bored.**

**T: If we met in person id be less bored**

“God, he wants to meet up with me.”

“Told you.”

Stephen humphed. “Doesn’t mean anything…”

**Sent: Maybe, sure**

Tony’s reply was sober.

**T: Dont sound that enthusiastic**

**T: Just lemme know when ur free**

**Sent: Sorry, didn’t mean to shut you down.**

**T: All good**

**Sent: I’ll be free this weekend, I think**

**T: Sweeeet see u then!!!**

Stephen sighed, chucking his phone away. Raising his hands, he scrubbed his shaking palms down his face. “What’ve you done, Strange?”

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/) 


	2. date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An hour later Tony was parked outside the building. Stephen tried to dress up - a button-up and slacks was the best he could do - so luckily Stark had dressed down to a blazer and jeans. “Not gonna freak out and throw yourself into my arms, right?” God he was such an asshole, but a very charming asshole. 
> 
> “No, but I might smack you,” Stephen warned.
> 
>  
> 
> After an unexpected gift, Stephen tries to square his relationship with Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like some of my exposition is a little weak, but hey ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_Beep!_

Groaning, Stephen rolled over, pulling his blanket farther up his chin. Sunlight beamed incessantly through the window, coaxing him awake, but he resisted with all his sleep-deprived might.

_Beeeeeeeeep!_

“What…” Dragging himself off his back, Stephen pressed his palms against his eyes. Using the window-sill to pull himself up, on tip-toe he peered outside. His eyes took scant moments to adjust to the light, and Stephen was greeted with the same cramped, dingy street, sun playing off dirty puddles of filth, neon signs turned off. Normal, except for the Mercedes parked in front of his building. Clearly the source of the ungodly honking.

“What is it?” Wong’s groggy voice complained from behind him.

_Ding._

Stephen glanced at his desk, where his phone sat charging. Stumbling over, he thumbed through his messages.

**T: I’m outside**

Stephen let his chin drop to his chest, tired and confused and slightly annoyed. What was with this guy?

“It’s Tony.” Wong must have fallen back asleep, since he didn’t respond. Stephen slowly typed out his reply, fingers unsteady in the mornings - at least, more than usual.

**Sent: Stop honking and I’ll be out in a minute**

**T: Kk**

Sighing, Stephen went through the motions - pulling on a pair of dark jeans and a decently-clean hoodie. It was oversized and pale yellow, his favorite and a gift. After combing back his hair he pulled on some boots and gloves and headed out. Once he was down the stairs and through the door he finally caught sight of Tony, once again in a pristine suit, sporting sunglasses and a wolfish grin.

“Good morning, Doctor,” he greeted, walking over to give him a slap on the back. Clearly in a playful mood, Stephen decided to follow along.

“Don’t tell me you wear a suit all the time,” he scoffed.

“Only when I feel like being fashionable,” Tony admitted, stepping away to open the passenger door. “After you.”

“Thanks…” Stephen climbed in and situated himself. Sleek black dash and warm leather seats welcomed him, new-car smell heavy with musk. He felt a bit uncomfortable. “Is this yours?”

The car dipped as Tony sat down and buckled in. “Yup, my baby,” he said, running his hands over the steering wheel. With a press of a button the engine started and Tony peeled out, making Stephen jump. He didn’t like fast cars. He didn’t like _speed._

“Hungry?” Tony asked. Working past the lump in his throat, Stephen managed an affirmative. “Cool, I know a great place.”

Tense minutes later for Stephen - Jesus Christ, Tony, _what is the rush_ \- Tony pulled up in front of a boujee restaurant, somewhere uptown. Breathing heavily, Stephen practically leapt out of the car, tempted to kiss the ground. Then he got a look at the venue.

“I feel… very underdressed.”

Inside, the restaurant was sleek and posh, with marble floors and lace curtains, open seating with that nouveau-chic design. The staff all wore tuxedos - real, proper tuxedos - and why would a place like this serve _breakfast?_

“Don’t worry, no one’ll care.” Tony breezed through the room with the nonchalant-grace of someone very secure, and Stephen followed.

Tony chose a table and they were quickly given menus. Perusing the options, Stephen couldn’t decide. “This all sounds _fantastic._ ” His mouth was nearly watering.

“Order whatever you want, and don’t limit yourself to one plate,” Tony insisted. When Stephen frowned at him he smirked defensively. “What, you look hungry!”

Stephen opted for a vegetarian omelette and French toast with tea, Tony for pancakes and dark roast.

“So.” Tony folded his hands professionally. “Might not graduate, huh?”

Stephen grimaced. Cutting right to the chase, it seems. “Might not.”

“Why, failing classes?”

“No,” Stephen snapped, offended. Keeping his hands clenched firmly under the table, he evened his tone as he spoke. “There have been… complications, in the last year or so.”

“Mysterious, what kind?”

The waiter delivered their drinks, Tony eagerly downing the coffee. Stephen’s hands were shaking a bit too much for tea, at the moment. “I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”

“Well if it’s serious enough you might drop out of grad school maybe you should talk about it.” That… made sense, in a way, but Stephen reminded himself they’d only just met, and he was strangely apprehensive about telling Tony too much.

“Fair enough.”

Comfortable silence rested with them, soft music bouncing off the walls as they waited for their food. When it arrived it smelled heavenly. Unable to resist eating as quickly as he could, Stephen tucked into the omelette, which was absolutely the best-tasting omelette he’d ever eaten in his life. Tony seemed to take great delight in watching Stephen enjoy his food, but soon his curious gaze was drawn to Stephen’s shaking hands, still gloved. Stephen prayed he wouldn’t say anything.

“Hands cold?”

Damn it. Moving on to the French toast, Stephen averted his gaze. He thought of just saying ‘yes’ and moving on, but something about Tony seemed a bit too smart for that, and something else told him to just tell him, _what the hell._

“That’s… part of the complications.” He phrased it very carefully.

Tony’s brows drew low, and he leaned forward. “How so?”  
  
Stephen swallowed hard. “Um… About a year ago I was in a really bad car accident.”

“What happened?”

Unable to tell whether Tony was drawn in by macabre curiosity or genuine concern, Stephen continued. “I was driving on a pretty slick road and was an idiot and tried to pass a guy.” His voice was bitter, and he knifed into his French toast angrily. Talking about it was always an emotional episode, and it was never not going to be. “Spun out and crashed into a river, shattered my hands.”

Tony looked mortified, pancakes abandoned. “That’s awful…”

“Now I have metal pins in my hands and they never stop shaking, so my plan to be a neurosurgeon is pretty much bust.” Stephen’s voice rose a pitch, and he rectified it by shoving more French toast in his mouth. God, he must look insane.

“So now you’re gonna drop out of med school,” Tony concluded.

“I already committed to this semester, but it’s probably not worth it to continue. I can’t even be a nurse if I tried.”

Tony was silent for a moment. “What was your undergrad degree?”

“Bio.”

“Maybe you can do something with that?”

“If I can get a job, but usually you need a PhD.”

“Try again?”

“I don’t have enough money to go back for a different degree.”

“Then how’re you paying for school now?”

“Loans.”  
  
Tony grimaced. “You’ve gotta have a scholarship or something, right?”

“I do, but I’m definitely gonna lose it.” Stephen huffed a sardonic laugh. Here he was, in an upscale restaurant with Tony Stark, describing his life as it falls apart and drowning himself in carbs. “I can’t participate in any labs, and I can’t get a sign-off from a doctor because I don’t have private insurance-”

“You don’t have _insurance?_ ” Tony looked disgusted - more disgusted than he was by the details of the crash.

“Not _private_ insurance. And the campus physicians aren’t keen to give me a pass, the dipshits.”

“Can’t your parents’ plan cover it, or-”

“They’re both dead. So…”

Tony sat back in his chair, looking profoundly unhappy. Something about that open, honest sympathy made Stephen want to burst into tears, so he sat down his fork and covered his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay, okay?” He felt Tony’s hand rest firmly on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Stephen took one more deep breath, steadying himself before he looked up and nodded. “Yeah, I guess…”

Tony sighed, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “You like tea?”

“Definitely,” Stephen replied, eager to change the subject. “Chai is my absolute favorite, but there’s a chamomile blend-”

“Okay, I’m definitely taking you to this one tea shop.” Set in his course, Tony paid the bill - refusing to let Stephen see the pricetag - and shuffled the man out the door. Driving with much more care (which Stephen appreciated), Tony brought them Downtown east of 54th to a little shop called ‘Crazy Wisdom.’ From the outside it looked rather cute and cozy, though Stephen figured it would cost a small fortune to buy anything.

“You’ll absolutely fall in love with this place, I promise.” Tony held the door open for Stephen, who was feeling a bit uncomfortably pampered. Inside there were tapestries on the wall, lined with tea in small glass jars, carefully labeled. Several aisles running parallel to the walls were filled with books and figurines, and somewhere incense was burning. “They have other shit too,” Tony explained.

“My dream lifestyle,” Stephen joked, though it was only semi-ironic.

“I’ll get you what you want,” Tony offered, and the casual way he said it, sticking his hands in his pockets and grinning, both baffled Stephen and annoyed him. “You really need to stop,” Stephen insisted, wandering into the store and examining the ware. Hundreds of flavors of tea beckoned him, but of course he went straight for the chai.

Listening to Tony’s shoes click on the floor behind him, Stephen chose a few of the cheaper blends, feeling bad about Stark paying for it all - and it occurred to him how much like a date this was. Bizarre. Within a week of meeting he and Tony were shopping downtown. Contemplating this turn of events, Stephen figured he ought to return the favor somehow. Cheeks flushing, he made sure to square his back firmly to Stark before he spoke.

“So, um… Wong and I were planning on getting high and watching Hoodwinked later, if you want to join us.”

Tony let loose a surprised laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

Unsure why he even bothered asking (because really, what a stupid way to spend an evening), Stephen still very much hoped Tony would say yes. When the man replied with an energetic “Dude, why wouldn’t I?” Stephen found himself relieved and happy. Whatever the hell this was - and really, he still wasn’t sure - it seemed like it could be nice.

Five hours later the three of them were stoned out of their minds and laughing like maniacs.

 

* * *

 

Hangover be damned, that was actually fun.

Cracking his neck, Stephen rolled onto his stomach, ten-o’clock sun warming his neck and blankets. Tempted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, he convinced himself he had shit to do despite the headache and dragged himself to his desk, a pleasant smile on his face as he cracked open a textbook and set to work. Breakfast was a cup of tea and a muffin he did _not_ remember leaving on his desk, but he shrugged it off and enjoyed the languid atmosphere.

At around 11:00 his phone lit up, displaying a message from Tony.

**T: Okay but I’m surprised I didn’t think of doing that sooner? That was hysterical wtf**

Stephen grinned. Tony was clearly referring to last night, but the thing Stephen remembered most wasn’t the abominable animation or spontaneous musical numbers - he was remembering Tony’s laugh. Erratic and light and bubbly and an uplifting sound to hear. He typed out a (relatively) quick reply.

**Sent: We’d been meaning to do that forever but somehow it hadn’t happened**

**T: It was soooooooo fuckin funny tho dude now arent you glad I dragged u out yesterday?**

Rolling his eyes, Stephen tossed his phone aside. Yes, he was glad Tony dragged him out. Was he still confused by what exactly their relationship was? Yes, that too. At least now he could label Tony a friend and not just ‘philanthropist who buys people breakfast.’

**T: Tried the new tea yet???**

**Sent: Yes, thank you, it’s very good.**

Stephen was drinking it now, in fact. It was a cold cup from the night before, but he wasn’t about to let anything go to waste.

**T: Checked the savings account yet???**

Stephen nearly choked.

**Sent: I’m sorry, what?**

Whipping open his Chase app, Stephen entered his password and-

Fifty-thousand.

Fifty-thousand dollars.

**Sent: You didn’t**

**Sent: Fuck you, Anthony**

**Sent: Oh my god I told you not to do this**

His hands were shaking violently, his heart in his throat. Overcome with anger and joy and guilt and something warm and absolutely unbearable Stephen came close to chucking his phone at the window and whooping.

**Incoming Call**

Thumb quaking, Stephen immediately accepted, bringing the phone to his ear. “Absolutely fuck you, Stark,” he accused, but Tony was already laughing.

“Wicked right?”

“Fuck you, why would you do that?” His voice was jumping up and down, like it had in the restaurant, and as in the restaurant he didn’t know what to do or what to say. So he cussed.

“I mean, my net-worth is like ten billion dollars, so fifty thousand isn’t really-”

“Yes, it is!” Stephen hissed, near hysteria. “This is a big deal, this is a huge fucking deal to me…”

“... Are you crying?”

Stephen paused, crossing his legs, aware his face was very wet. “Yes, yeah, a little.” He was still wearing the yellow sweater from yesterday, still holding onto the sound of Tony laughing.

“Want me to come pick you up? Maybe we can see an off-Broadway show or-”  
  
“Is this a date?”

Silence.

“Is it going to be a date?” Stephen didn’t know what he was saying anymore, just knew he had to say it and that strange warm feeling wanted it to be a date. It wasn’t the money - the same Stephen curled up on the sidewalk in the rain before they’d even met wanted to spend time with Tony, and see him smile, and what the hell, they’d known each other for a whole _week,_ Christ, they should have been married by now. “Because you don’t give just anybody fifty-thousand-”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a date.”

“... Good.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later Tony was parked outside the building. Stephen tried to dress up - a button-up and slacks was the best he could do - so luckily Stark had dressed down to a blazer and jeans. “Not gonna freak out and throw yourself into my arms, right?” God he was such an asshole, but a very charming asshole.

“No, but I might smack you,” Stephen warned.

“Fair enough.” Holding open the door as he had yesterday, Tony helped Stephen situate himself before they drove off.

“So I hope we aren’t really seeing a Broadway show,” Stephen quipped.

“No, absolutely not,” Tony agreed. “We’re doing something _much_ more fun. But it’s a surprise, so no questions!” Stephen held up his hands in surrender, willing to supplicate himself to the whims of Tony Stark. As they drove Tony kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, making Stephen a bit nervous. “Watch the road,” he scolded, prompting Tony to sigh.

“So do you wear the gloves all the time, or…?”

Stephen nodded, gaze set firmly on the road as they hopped on the freeway from Manhattan to Brooklyn. “Yep.” Shifting a little, he tried to change the subject, tucking his hands between his legs. “Where are we going, Jersey?”

“Is it just a comfort thing?”

“No, it’s…!” Stephen huffed. “There are scars…”

A little affirmative noise answered him, and thankfully Tony dropped the subject. Instead the man started asking about his childhood, oddly enough - what his house was like, what he enjoyed as a kid, who his friends were. Answering the questions obligingly, Stephen started quizzing Tony as well, asking him about the PhDs and Stark Industries and what exactly he planned on doing with his life. “I mean, you’re already filthy rich, what are you even working on?”

Eyes lighting up, Tony launched into an excited rant about an armored suit he was prototyping, supposed to help with med-evac during global emergencies. Interested, Stephen was absorbed in Tony’s explanation to the point he didn’t notice where they’d gone, glancing around curiously when Tony pulled off the highway. “Wait, where are we? Jersey, right?” His gut was saying Jersey, but his gut was known to be wrong.  

Tony snorted. “Try again.”

“Pennsylvania?”

“That’s the ticket.” Tony had pulled into a parking lot off the highway, belonging to a little Indian restaurant struggling to keep its doors open. Powering down the car, Tony stepped outside, and Stephen followed suit.

“Has it really been- what, two hours?” The time had practically flown.

“Lots to know about me babe,” Tony teased, whipping out his fancy phone to check something before tucking it away. “Alright, should be inbound.” Strolling off toward the neighboring cornfield, Tony left Stephen frowning and confused.

“Wait- inbound? What the hell are you-?” Stephen took off after him, cursing himself for wearing slacks - if they were just making crop-circles all day he wouldn’t have bothered. Tony was moving fast, nearly running through the rows of golden stalks, bright light playing off his hair, nearly blinding Stephen as he hurried to catch up. “Wait!”

“Come on, slowpoke,” Tony called, grabbing one of Stephen’s hands to pull him along. Squinting against the waxing sun and the wind in his face Stephen kept pace, heart hammering in anticipation and excitement until they reached a wide clearing. Chest heaving, Stephen glanced around. “What-”

Tony pressed a finger to his lips, eyes glued to the watch on his wrist. “Wait for it…” Glancing in all directions, Stephen tried to pinpoint what it was he was supposed to see. Faintly, he heard a whistling sound, like a jet plane.

In a flash of light the ground shook beneath him, sending him onto his back, ears ringing. Looming in front of him was a giant with flaming eyes. Shrieking, Stephen scrambled back. “What the hell- Tony!” he cried.

“Woah woah woah relax!” Tony bent down in front of him, taking Stephen firmly by the shoulders. “It’s not gonna hurt you, come on.” Stephen very firmly shook his head no. “Come _on_ killjoy.” Nervously, Stephen let Tony help him to his feet.

It was a robot. Painted a fiery red with gold highlights, it was smaller than he thought at first, but still intimidating, the burning eyes fading to a neutral shade of blue. Coaxing him forward, Stephen couldn’t help but lean away from the robot and against Tony’s shoulder. He refused not to be startled. “What is it?” he asked.

Tony laughed, a hand coming to rest on Stephen’s lower back. “The project I was talking about, remember?” A quiet ‘oh’ slid from Stephen’s mouth, and he looked at the robot curiously, now. “It’s… I thought it was a suit?”

Smiling brightly, Tony seemed overjoyed Stephen remembered. “It’s fully-functional, even without someone in it. Come on, come on.” Beckoning Stephen closer - pushing him, really - Tony ran a hand down the armored plating. “It’s made of  a special compound I’ve been playing around with,” he explained.

“You made it yourself?” Stephen gawked. Being a billionaire, Stephen thought Tony would have armies of men to develop this stuff for him. But the man actually _built this._

“Yep, it’s my brainchild,” Tony beamed proudly. Stepping up to the robot, Tony held out his arms, the metal curling around him, swallowing him up. Stephen tripped away, nearly fainting, but once he saw that was how you put the armor _on_ he relaxed, admiring Tony in the weird suit. Instead of a visor there was Tony’s face, looking odd amidst the metal. Turning to Stephen, looking expectant, holding out a hand, Tony looked sheepish. “Wanna go for a ride?”

Stephen took a step back, incredulous. “What- you mean-?”

With a ‘clang’ Tony kicked the suit into action, forcing a yelp from a thoroughly rattled Stephen. Hovering a foot above the ground, Tony gave Stephen time to admire the thrusters in his boots before he asked again.

“What _fly?_ No. No, no way.” Stephen shook his head firmly. He’d been in an accident once - he wasn’t about to put his life in the hands of a clearly _insane_ person in flying metal armor.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Tony assured him, like he’d been reading Stephen’s thoughts. Dubiously, Stephen extended a finger, poking the glowing disk in the middle of Tony’s chest. “What’s that?”

“Arc reactor,” the man answered, as if it were obvious. “Come on, Stephen. You’re safe with me, you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, Stephen had to nod. Cautiously, eyes watering against the gleam of red metal, Stephen took Tony’s armored hand in his gloved one, stepping closer, up onto the iron boots. Wrapping his arms tightly around Tony’s shoulders, he buried his face in the suit’s neck, screwing his eyes shut.

Amused, Tony wrapped a clunky arm around Stephen’s waist. “We’re not going light-speed, don’t worry,” he teased. Trying to set him at ease, Stephen guessed. Wasn’t working.

Slowly, Tony got them going - Stephen could feel the ground slipping farther and farther away, squeezing himself against Tony’s suit as hard as he could. Wind picked up, the air grew cooler. “How far up are we?” he demanded.

“Not very far, chill,” Tony huffed, but Stephen suspected the man was entertained. “Open your eyes, Doctor Strange,” Tony said. When Stephen refused, Tony said it again, voice nearly a whisper, something warm and affectionate. “Open your eyes.”

Three, two, one. Stephen peeled his eyes open, blinking against the clear light, surrounded on all sides by the gentlest shade of blue he thought he’d ever seen. Craning his neck around, Stephen saw that’s all there was - endless blue. Something thrilled within him, revelling at the height and depth and how beautiful a single color could be. Smiling brightly, he turned excitedly to Tony, nearly bumping noses with him. “This is wonderful!” he cried.

Tony beamed at him, the corners of his mouth soft with a genuine, unhinged delight Stephen hadn’t recognized before. Fantastic things seemed to reach out to him from Tony’s eyes. Fondness. Security. Maybe happiness, too.

“Pretty, neat, huh?” Tony cocked his head back, looking proud. “I mean it’s not much-”

“Don’t humble-brag,” Stephen scolded, smile still lighting up his face. “This is incredible, so shut up and take the compliment. I’ve been impressed, so.” Shrugging as best he could with an iron suit pressed against him, Stephen looked around some more. They were hovering who-knows-how-far above the earth, and Stephen was loving it.

Looking around with him, Tony nodded in satisfaction. “Glad you’re impressed. That was kinda the point.” Winking roguishly, Tony’s suit gave a lurch as they continued soaring higher, veering off at an angle and leveling out. Squeaking childishly, Stephen found himself flat on Tony’s stomach, facing down as Tony looked up. “Explore some more?”

“I hate you.”

“Same.”

Stephen frowned, hair stinging against his cheeks as it was whipped around by the clouds. “I hope you don’t mean that.”

Laughing, Tony flew a little loop-the-loop, making Stephen shout. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with the sweet abyss of self-deprecating irony.”

Heart hammering uproariously, Stephen smirked. “Nice to make his acquaintance.”

Feigning shock and offense, Tony kicked up the speed. Weaving through clouds and dipping and diving Stephen felt free in a way he’d never felt before - unfettered and exuberant and without limit. Tony was holding on to him, but Tony wasn’t holding him back, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let go, either. All these things Stephen felt and told himself as they played high up in the air, enjoying the wind and a sprinkling of rain and the light’s transition from golden yellow to a dusky orange. Minutes, hours felt like forever. Soon the sky turned dark, and the pair descended to Earth, Tony’s boots landing smartly on the ground so Stephen could step back, feel the ground beneath his feet and take a long, deep breath. “Had a good time?” Tony asked, his suit dismantling around him, revealing the blazer and jeans and the billionaire’s slim frame. Folding back into its proper shape, the suit flew off, tearing into the air and back to Manhattan.

“Not very subtle,” Stephen commented.

“But you did have a good time?” Tony pressed. Nervous excitement framed Tony’s eyes, worried and happy all at once.

“Of course I had a good time,” Stephen assured, devoid of his usual sarcasm and genuine to dispel Tony’s anxiety.

Grinning, Tony sauntered over, taking Stephen’s hands in his. “Good first date?” he reminded, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sarcasm returning, Stephen rolled his eyes. “Good first date,” he agreed.

Swaying side to side, like he was pulling Stephen into a dance, Tony hummed. “How about I top it off with a good first kiss?” he suggested. The two of them shared an amused cringe.

“Cheesy, but I like the idea,” Stephen agreed. Letting Tony coax him closer, Stephen closed his eyes, feeling his heart slow, holding the air he’d danced through in his lungs. Soft lips brushed chastely against his own, testing the waters before they came together, callused fingers brushing against his jaw.

Brief, but sincere and sweet. Pulling back, Stephen met Tony’s bright smile with his own, feeling what he was thought and prayed he might be feeling. Hope.

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)


	3. the tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you in Siberia?” Stephen asked, concern rising in his chest. 
> 
> “There’s been-” Tony’s voice briefly crackled away, and Stephen held his breath. “-incident.” 
> 
> “What kind of incident, what’s going on?” Frustrated and worried, Stephen felt like he might snap. “Stop dancing around the issue and tell me-”
> 
>  
> 
> Stephen's in deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: sexy times

“So he’s definitely your sugar-daddy now.”

“Shut up already.”

In the past month Tony had taken Stephen on no less than seven big-deal dates. They’d seen each other in between of course, sometimes just for coffee or a movie when their schedules were busy. Tony certainly qualified as a go-getter, while Stephen was juggling the last classes he’d ever take. The decision he hadn’t made - about his future, the rest of his life - still hung in the air, heavy and limp like a corpse. If Tony weren’t preoccupying his every though Stephen figured he might be going insane. Instead he’d been going to concerts and movies and tech expos where people were taking _pictures_ of them.

“Come on,” Wong insisted, “Your face is everywhere.” Holding up his phone for Stephen to see, he displayed a recent tabloid headline: TONY STARK’S MED-SCHOOL HOOKUP

Banging his head back against the wall, Stephen closed his eyes. “Shut up.”

Stephen had already seen most of the gossip-columns. Why was everyone eager to get his scoop on Tony Stark, the hot mess? They hadn’t even had sex yet, for heaven’s sake! At first he’d driven himself into fits of anxiety about the headlines, but Tony managed to calm him down and convince him they weren’t a big deal. Sitting on his bed, feeling more than seeing the sun set, Stephen had his back to the wall and his face to his laptop, staring at the open tab reading ‘Chase Online.’

“What’re you going to do with it?” Wong inquired, voice soft. Stephen had told him about the money a few weeks ago, once he’d recovered from the shock of it.

“I don’t know…” he admitted. “Give it back?”

“You’d be a fool,” Wong tutted.

“Well he’s not my sugar-daddy unless I actually start spending the money, right?” Stephen smiled ruefully. Even if he did, Tony wouldn’t be. Tony wasn’t that kind of guy. The joke had played out its momentum anyway.

Wong shrugged, leaving Stephen to his thoughts. Sighing, Stephen opened his student portal, pulling up the tentative schedule that should have taken him to his medical license and beyond. Instead, he cleared out his cache, removing himself from the registration list. Tony wasn't paying for his classes. Especially if his classes weren’t going to get him anywhere.

Feeling unduly emotional, Stephen closed his laptop, deciding it wasn’t worth it to do his lab analysis. “Do you think Tony is a bad influence?” he asked randomly, glancing over at Wong, sitting at his desk with what seemed like a thousand books around him.

Glancing over, Wong frowned. “Well, from what you’ve told me the man is trying to help you,” he answered carefully. “Certainly you’re less productive, but you’re the one who’s calling the shots.”

Stephen thought about that. “Right,” he agreed. Other than the large... donation, Tony wasn’t pressuring Stephen towards a different path. All he’d been was helpful, neither encouraging Stephen to stay in school nor to drop out. It was all on Stephen. In a certain way that frightened him: almost as if he wished he were absolved of all responsibility, ever. Now that he thought about it, their relationship was in his hands, too. Officially ‘dating’ they may be, but Tony (other than planning their outings) was letting Stephen decide how intimate they would be and when. So far that intimacy was not physical. Odd, Stephen thought, that a playboy like Tony Stark would be so restrained.

“Strange.”

“Hm?” Pulling himself from his thoughts, Stephen glanced over at Wong.

“Your phone is ringing.”

Confused, Stephen glanced around for his cell, tangled in the sheets beside him and yes, buzzing. Mouthing a thanks, he accepted the call. It was Tony.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hotshot,” Tony greeted, sing-songy voice a bit distorted. Puzzled, Stephen asked if he was on speaker-phone.

“Uh… you might call it that.”

Even more confused, Stephen sat forward on his bed. “What are you talking about, where are you?”

“Um- Currently over Siberia. It’s kind of amazing I have a signal here-”

“Why are you in Siberia?” Stephen asked, concern rising in his chest.

“There’s been-” Tony’s voice briefly crackled away, and Stephen held his breath. “-incident.”

“What kind of incident, what’s going on?” Frustrated and worried, Stephen felt like he might snap. “Stop dancing around the issue and tell me-”

“Someone’s launched a missile. We don’t know where it came from, but JARVIS picked it up on long-range tracking-”

Heart leaping into his throat, Stephen’s attention narrowed to a slit, concentrating on the sound of Tony’s voice. “Why are you tracking missiles? Wait, are you in the suit?!” Panic crawled into his chest. Even Wong looked up, listening intently.

“Yeah, I’m in the suit. Figured this was as good a chance as any to test this baby out-”

“Tony, it’s for fallout, not stopping nukes!” Stephen cried.

He could almost hear Tony wince. “Yeah, I know. Technically it _can_ divert long-range weaponry, but ideally, you know. Not with someone inside it.”

“Then why _are_ you inside it?!” Stephen shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed, you-” Voice choking off, Stephen felt like he could scream, or cry. Why was Tony being such an _idiot?_ Didn’t he realize how much Stephen had invested in him? How sick to his stomach he was right now?

“Relax babe, I have plenty of time to alter its trajectory - probably send it into space or something. Worse it’ll do is hit a satellite.”

Stephen paused, feeling as if his tongue were a frog in his mouth. “Just do what you have to do and get out of there, okay?” he reasoned quietly.

That seemed to catch Tony off guard. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get out of here quick, okay? No worries. Just wanted to call ‘cause, you know… I’m nervous.”

“So am I,” Stephen huffed, not meaning to make Tony feel worse, but needing Tony to know if they really _were_ in a relationship, this was not going to be okay.

“I know. I’ll come by and see you as soon as this is over, right?” Tony promised.

“You’d better.”

 

* * *

 

Hours crawled by. Stephen had taken up vigil on the roof, staring into the sky, anxious, angry. He vacillated between severe bouts of terror - had Tony been hurt? Was he _dead_ , oh God - and fits of rage. Wong stood calmly beside him, trying to keep Stephen’s mood-swings in check, trying to keep him rational. Doing a very poor job of it, too.

“He’s taking too long…” Stephen decided, pacing back and forth manically.

“Stark is coming back from Siberia,” Wong reminded him. “Try to keep your composure.”

“How can I?!” Stephen barked. “He- He calls me up saying ‘Oh hi, sweetie, just wanted to let you know I’ll be home late ‘cause I’m stopping a fucking nuke!’” Stephen pantomimed a high-pitched, whiny version of Tony Stark, fingers twiddling through the air like he was sprinkling fairy-dust. Gloved, though, always gloved. “Like he expects me to-to play the passive housewife and say ‘Oh, don’t worry honey, I’ll just heat up dinner when you get back!’ Fucking ridiculous…” Stephen stopped pacing, fists on his hips as he glared impatiently at the stars.

Taken aback by Stephen’s tirade, Wong rested a careful hand on his shoulder. “Strange. I know you’re worried, but you need to let Stark explain himself, okay? I’m sure he’s on his way here right now.”   
  
Crossing his arms over his chest, Stephen hung his head. “Better be…”

Wong sighed. “Would you rather he not have told you at all?”

“... No,” Stephen conceded.

“Here he comes.”

Whirling around, Stephen whipped his gaze back up towards the sky, catching a streak of light hurtling towards them. “I’m going to kill him,” he announced. “I’m going to wring his-”

Like a meteor Tony hit the roof, the building quaking beneath them. Teeth rattling from the impact, Stephen surged forward. “Anthony Edward Stark I’m going to beat your ass-mph!”

Tony’s suit collapsed around him, the man stepping forward with a cocky grin, snaking an arm around Stephen’s waist and pulling him in for a searing kiss. Stephen’s squirms melted into a fond embrace, anger purged from his mind. They pulled apart with a wet smack. Searching Tony’s eyes, Stephen found giddiness and levity. No fear. No injury. Resting their foreheads together, Stephen sighed. “I’m still angry with you,” he announced, trying to convince himself, too.

“Damn, I was hoping I could distract you,” Tony teased, voice a playful whisper. A smile forced its way onto Stephen’s face. Eventually Tony noticed Wong standing off to the side, and he stepped back, coughing a bit and scratching the back of his neck in that endearing way of his. “So…” he sang, the word dipping down. “Come back to my place?”

“Only if you promise to explain to me your exact thought-process when you decided to put on the suit,” Stephen insisted, crossing his arms.

Looking guilty, Tony shrugged, taking one of Stephen’s hands in both of his and cupping it gently. “Yeah, I guess you deserve to know, don’t you?” he said, gravely.

Stephen paused. “I… Yeah,” he replied. He squeezed Tony’s hands tightly, running a gloved finger across the man’s palms. “Back to your place.”

Tony cracked a smile, stepping back into his suit. After a few moments of mechanical whirring he was geared up, gesturing for Stephen to stand on his boots. Stephen did so, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders, like he had the first time Tony convinced him to fly. Soon they were soaring across the city, landing on the balcony of Stark Tower.

The view took Stephen’s breath away. Stars were peeking out behind a sifting haze of clouds, blinking in tandem with the lights of New York. Chuckling at the look on Stephen’s face, Tony let his suit retract around him as he gave Stephen a kiss on the cheek. “Like it?”

Stephen turned to look Tony in the eye. “Love it,” he grinned.

Sticking out his tongue and biting it playfully, Tony guided Stephen inside. Despite their many dates Stephen had never actually been inside Stark Tower. They’d either returned to Stephen’s place or rented an Airbnb if Wong was around. Something about being invited back to Tony’s home seemed worlds more intimate than even the cozy cabins they’d stay in - it was a special part of Tony Stephen had never seen before. Heart fluttering with anticipation, Stephen let himself be escorted through the sliding glass doors and into the lounge.

Spacious, sleek, streamlined. Tony Stark to a tee. Stephen glanced around the space, aware Tony’s eyes were tracking his gaze. Meeting him eye-to-eye, Stephen could see the uncertainty, the anxiety Tony was hiding. Chiseled features and soft eyes resembled the face of a puppy more than ever. With a sigh Stephen pulled Tony into a hug, resting his chin on the man’s shoulder. “It’s lovely, Tony,” he said.

Tony sighed, arms draped loosely around Stephen’s waist. “I… Yeah, thanks, I guess I was- I was worried I’d come across as like a rich asshole or whatever, that’s why I-” He coughed hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you back here sooner, you know? Not that I didn’t want you to see my place, but- Like I didn’t want-”

“You didn’t want me to think you were flexing because I’m poor?”

“... Basically.”

Stephen had to chuckle. “That’s very sweet. I’m not going to be insulted by your money, Tony,” he scolded.

Tony pulled back, giving Stephen a cheeky little once-over. “You sure were insulted when I gave some of it to you,” he commented.

“Fifty-thousand dollars is not ‘some,’” Stephen shot back. “That fifty bucks you gave me was pushing it.”

Laughing, Tony pulled Stephen back in by the hips, kissing his cheek and dragging the scruff of his beard down his jaw. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty but you’re just making me glad I did it.”

Frowning, Stephen craned his neck back so he could plop his chin on Tony’s brow. “What do you mean?”

“I tend not to make investments unless I think they’ll pull through. I invested in you not just taking my money and running for the hills, you know? It was a calculated risk and I scored. Of course I want you to actually _use_ the money at some point, but you didn’t blow it and never speak to me again, or blow it and ask for more. That’s… Nice.”

For a long moment Stephen thought. When Tony first transferred the money he assumed it was out of pity, or it was something billionaires like the Starks normally did. But that money was not endless - people probably wanted money from Tony all the time, so finding someone who didn’t appreciate him solely for his wallet was probably a huge relief. And to be called an _investment,_ that- That was oddly flattering, in a clinical sort of way. “I’m… Glad you took the risk, then,” Stephen replied. “Not because you gave me money but because, you know. I have you.” Aware he was bumbling through whatever kind of confession this was, Stephen trailed off. “So. There’s that.”  

Silence held the air for the duration of an agonizing heartbeat. Abruptly Tony pulled back, staring up at Stephen with a look of intense concentration. Balking, Stephen tried to backpedal. He was being scrutinized. “Whatever you think I said I didn’t-”

“Do you want to have sex?”

Those words shattered the air. Stephen blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you want to have sex?” Tony repeated.

“... You mean,” Stephen bit his lip. “In general?”

Tony scoffed. “I hope not _in general,_ Mr. My Boyfriend.”

“Right, right, I-” Shaking his head, Stephen tried to clear his head. His next words were stunted and thick in his throat. “You are asking me if I want to have sex. With you. Right now.”

“Right now.”

“Right now?”   
  
“Right now, Stephen.”

Feeling a lump form in his throat, Stephen stared back at Tony Stark. Hard. This was it. This was the moment he’d been dreading. The moment Stephen would chicken out and avoid the question and most probably ruin everything, but not because he didn’t want to- Because Tony would see everything. And _no one_ had seen everything, before or after the accident. “I’m a virgin,” he blurted out, cheeks flushing red as soon as he did.

Tony paused, then a wolfish smirk lit up his face. “Even better,” he teased, sauntering forward and taking Stephen’s hands. “Only if you want to. Absolutely no pressure.” Returning to a serious tone, Tony held Stephen’s gaze, expression solemn.

“Only if I want to,” Stephen echoed, and Tony nodded, and Stephen nodded back. “I do, Tony, I really do...” - He rushed to finish the sentence, refusing to see Tony’s hopes crushed - “But I’m just… My scars are-” Words dead in his throat.

“Hey, look at me.”

Skeptically, Stephen did. Tony was smiling warmly, squeezing Stephen’s hands in a reassuring way. “Stephen,” he said, and his own name sounded like honey on Tony’s lips. “Only if you want to. I get that the scars are a personal thing, and I’m not going to make you open up like that. So feel free to say no and I’ll understand.” He shrugged casually.

Stephen was a bit dumbfounded. “I… kind of expected you to try and convince me."

Tony pulled a face. “What, you think I’m some kind of ogre- Don’t! Don’t make a Shrek joke.” Stephen laughed, and Tony laughed with him, still holding his hands lightly. “I wouldn’t put it past you not to make a Shrek joke.”

“Thought crossed my mind.” It really hadn’t. Stephen cleared his throat before he continued. “But… Since I expected you to convince me, I could probably be convinced.”

Tony paused, and Stephen held his breath. After a few thoughtful nods Tony started shaking his head. “Nah. Nope. I’m not going to try to convince you if your first instinct was to say no.”

Wow. Tony had really passed the test with that one. Turning a bit pink, Stephen didn’t know what to say, but Tony rescued him by inviting him to his island bar in the corner and mixing him a drink, and watching Tony play bartender was pretty entertaining in its own right. After they’d had their fill (martinis and cocktails and a shot of vodka each) the pair migrated into Tony’s lounge and after arguing over the remote settled on reruns of Kitchen Nightmares. Tony sat with his elbow propped on the arm of the couch, chin resting on his knuckles as he watched attentively. Opting to sprawl across the cushions, Stephen used Tony’s legs as a pillow, eyes slipping shut every few moments. On the verge of falling asleep, he remembered to ask what he’d meant to ask in the first place.

“Why did you put on the suit, Tony?”

Sighing, Tony muted the TV and glanced down at him, carding a hand through Stephen’s hair. “I felt like it was something I had to do.”

“But the suit-”

“-Could have done it by itself, yeah, but. I dunno. I felt like _I_ needed to do it. Not just a hollow shell. I wanted to really _do something,_ y’know? I guess that sounds kind of stupid, but-”

“No. I get it.”   
  
Tony frowned down at him, the angle making it look like a bizarre, contorted smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Stephen nodded. Maybe it was the drinks or maybe it was empathy, but he felt like he’d been through the same and understood. “You were tired of being the rich boy sitting on your father’s money so you wanted to do something yourself for a change.”

“Oof, you’re not afraid to be blunt.”

Stephen smiled languidly. “If I was afraid to be blunt you wouldn’t like me so much.”

A huff of laughter left Tony’s lips. “Probably not. You’re-” The man’s frown intensified, and he ruffled Stephen’s hair for the sake of messing it up. “You’re infuriating, you know that? In the best way. Like, you’re this nice guy who’s funny and you actually put up with me, the complete package.”

Stephen’s smile grew. “That’s generous, but you make spending time with you sound like a chore.”   
  
“It can be,” Tony quipped, and there was an odd hint of warning there. Stephen turned so he was facing upwards, studying the underside of Tony’s face, seeing the hidden fat under his chin, and his nose-hair. Realizing he didn’t care if it _was_ a chore. It hit him like a bolt of lightning. No, that would be too sudden - like the rumbling of an earthquake, then, building and building subtly where you couldn’t detect it until suddenly the world was shaking. Hurtling himself upright, Stephen nearly clipped Tony’s jaw with his forehead. “Woah, what-?” Tony looked confused, caught off-guard. Stephen’s nose brushed against his, and he jerked back. “D-”

“Let’s do it.”  
  
Tony blinked. “Do what?”

“Have sex. Right now, let’s do it, like you said.”

Looking confused and a bit concerned, Tony’s smile was more of a frown. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

Laughing sideways, Tony seemed pretty dubious. “Listen, Stephen, you weren’t interested earlier, and now we’ve both been drinking-”

“I don’t care,” Stephen snapped, bringing a hand up to touch Tony’s cheek. He was wearing the cheap finger-gloves you can get at the dollar store, the very tip of the fingers cut off. Only enough for him to tap his phone screen, or in this case feel Tony’s skin. “I’m not going to regret it,” he assured, voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t place. He laughed at himself. “I’m not going to regret it at all! I wasn’t uncertain about _you_ , I was just- Uncertain about how you’d see me?” Voice rising into a question, Stephen sighed. “Now I’m not.”

Eyes perceptibly wider, Tony was completely still, listening to Stephen explain. Nodding after a moment, he asked “What made you change your mind?”

“You look kind of ugly from underneath.”

Offended, Tony pulled back, giving Stephen a critical once-over. “That’s probably not what you want to say to get a guy in bed with you,” he advised.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Probably not. But I guess that angle wasn’t really flattering and I realized _nobody_ is flattering _all_ the time, so I shouldn’t be self-conscious. I’ve kept a lot to myself since the crash, and I guess I’m- Ready not to.”   
  
Thoughtfully, Tony came around to agree, letting Stephen cup his cheeks in both hands before closing his eyes. “Well I’m glad my hideous features make you feel better about yourself,” he teased. Any upset was gone.

Stephen shook his head, planting a soft kiss on Tony’s lips. “You’re far from hideous. Even someone as handsome as you has flaws, is what I mean.”

Mollified, Tony leaned in to kiss Stephen back. Parting gently, Tony’s lips hovered just apart from Stephen’s own. “A far better way of getting someone into bed with you,” he approved, voice a bare whisper as his lips trailed across Stephen’s cheeks, to his jaw and down his neck. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he breathed.

Shivers lacing up his spine, Stephen nodded. Tony mouthed at his clavicle, tugging Stephen’s shirt-collar this way and that to reveal first one patch of skin and then another. He treated each spot with tender care and rapt attention, eventually doing away with Stephen’s shirt entirely, tossing it off to the side with a pleased noise. Back already cold, Stephen was surprised to find his chest was very warm - Tony’s hands were already feeling their way up his sides, rough and calloused. Stephen hummed appreciatively. With a warm grin Tony gently pushed Stephen back into the couch, crawling on top of him, all sinews like a snake, licking a trail from Stephen’s pecs to his collarbone, revelling in the naked skin.

His hands wandered up to Stephen’s wrists, where he caught himself on the rough cotton of those finger-gloves. Startled by the intruders, Tony slowly pulled them off. Eyes glued to Stephen’s, he removed first one and then the other, kissing Stephen’s cheek before his gaze turned to look at Stephen’s hands for the first time. Heart hammering, Stephen watched Tony watch. Raised skin, pink lines, pale nails. Shaking. Stephen thought his hands were hideous and waited for Tony to ignore them.

Tony picked them up and kissed them instead. He brushed his lips over each finger, treating each in the tender way one treats a treasure. Reverent. A lump caught in Stephen’s throat.  Overwhelmed, he pulled his hands away, carding his fingers through Tony’s hair and tugging him down for a kiss. He was _not_ about to cry during his first time. The glimmer in Tony’s eyes seemed to understand, and soon the rest of their clothes were gone.

Tony was all compact muscles and glistening, tan skin. It almost came as a surprise, seeing all that skin. Stephen had only ever seen Tony in his pristine suits and the occasional long t-shirt. But this. This blew any sense of fashion out of the water. Unable to resist, Stephen sat himself up on his elbows and kissed his way across Tony’s chest. Tony seemed to enjoy it, rumbling low in his throat before he shoved Stephen back down playfully and resumed biting and teasing him. Finally, his hand wormed down to wind around Stephen’s cock, drawing a stunted gasp up his throat. Stroking him languidly, Tony managed to maneuver himself onto his knees, withdrawing a bottle of lube from nowhere - maybe up his ass, who knows. Stephen’s breathless laugh was replaced with a low moan as Tony’s first slicked finger breached him. Wriggling helplessly as he was prepared, Stephen kept his eyes glued to Tony, observing the fire in his eyes and the sweat on his brow. They were both nervous, then. But Tony was so well-practiced Stephen barely felt a sting as first two fingers scissored him and then Tony added a third. Soon he was rocking down onto Tony’s hand, whining and ready for more.

“Ready, baby?” Tony asked, voice a growl as he wrapped Stephen’s legs around his waist and lined himself up. Stephen nodded. Letting the remaining lube drip onto his cock before tossing it aside, Tony took a deep breath, muscles quivering as he braced his arms against the couch and pressed inside.

They had sex right there, on Tony’s couch. It stung at first, but it was slow and easy and sinfully sweet - more like _making_ _love,_ as gooey as the term was. Tony was gentle, whispering sweet nothings into Stephen’s ear as he pumped in and out, in and out, nibbling at Stephen’s neck to distract him from the burn, swallowing the noises he made with a kiss. Having Tony inside him was like having his own piece of heaven. Tony was everything Stephen could have dreamed. They came down from their orgasms together, bodies slick with sweat and semen.

Breathing heavily, Tony curled himself around Stephen, closing his eyes and humming contentedly. Stephen felt warm and happy - a bit sticky, too. Figuring he could ignore that for now, he drifted asleep, faint skyline through the windows fading to purple and blue.

 

* * *

  

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated :-)


	4. belize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groaning, Stephen turned over in bed, throwing an arm across his face. “Turn off your phone…” he grumbled, smacking Tony’s arm. It must be nearly four in the morning, for heaven’s sake! The mattress dipped as Tony shifted to sit up. “No, just turn it off…!” 
> 
> “Yeah, what, what do you want? … Obie, please I- … Really … Alright, give me like ten minutes.”
> 
>  
> 
> Stephen did not sign up for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty long, so please enjoy!

“You’re really gonna keep staying in this dingy place?”

Tony’s question came from beside him as the pair sat on Stephen’s bed. The studio apartment was as cramped as always, and Tony hadn’t seemed to mind until now, so the question caught Stephen off-guard.

“I don’t really have another option?” he replied. At NYU the new term had begun, meaning Wong wasn’t around and Stephen had the place to himself more often. On the flip side of the coin, Stephen was only there so often because he’d dropped out of college and currently had no job. The last money in his checking account was being drained into rent, and he hadn’t dared dip into the fifty-thousand yet. Tony had noticed. And Tony was concerned.

“You’ve looked everywhere for a job?”

“That would be impossible.”

“Asshole- I mean everywhere feasible?”

Stephen sighed. “I’ve applied to postings on every website I could think of - ZipRecruiter, Indeed, Craigslist, fucking Reddit - and I’ve all but walked door-to-door asking stores if they’d hire me.”

“Well you need something better than minimum wage!” Tony protested. “Find something that offers insurance, at least…”

“I know I know…” Stephen sighed. “I’ve applied to medical positions, and I give them my resume and they look impressed, but then I show them the medical records because I’m an honest person and-” Stephen made an explosion sound, puffing up his cheeks and miming fireworks with his hands.

Tony nodded glumly. “Listen… I know you’re gonna hate me for offering, but I could probably get you a jo-”

“No.”   

“... Won’t even consider it?” When Stephen refused again, Tony frowned, turning to look him in the eye. He crossed his knees, resting them atop Stephen’s leg. Intense determination flickered across his stupidly handsome face. “Stephen Strange. I can get you a job right in the tower. It would be really discreet- Hell, you could be my secretary if you want.” Tony’s triumphant grin quickly fell into a frown. “Actually. Y’know, Pepper might not appreciate that. You could be my private intern.” He waggled his eyebrows before resuming a serious expression. “Really, Stephen. Take me up on this.”

Stephen bit his lip, looking away and considering.

“With your biomed background it wouldn’t be a stretch to hire you. I can sign you onto the Mark-2 project, since it’s designed specifically for evacuation and relief, you’d be-”

“Hush.”

“-well paid.”

“Shh.”

Staring up at the ceiling, Stephen gave it some genuine thought rather than dismissing it off-hand. Being employed by his boyfriend would be weird. To say the least. Considering it before had always been painful, giving him a stunted, defensive feeling in his chest. Pride getting in the way, is what that was. Now that he was opening himself to the possibility, it seemed like it would be an adjustment, but maybe not that bad. Better than having no job at all. Getting used to it would be awkward - especially establishing employee-employer dynamics within a pre-existing relationship - but maybe it would be worth it, in the end. He’d be able to help Tony on his ‘missions.’ Not to say he wanted Tony going out in that suit again, but he could keep a better eye on him and not be left in the dark.

“Are you thinking about it? Like, really thinking about it?” Tony’s voice was eager, but it grated on Stephen’s nerves in just the wrong way.

“What about ‘shush’ do you not understand?” he snapped. After a heavy beat of silence he sighed. “Sorry. Sorry, I just…”

Tony threw his hands up casually. “No, I get it. You gotta think. I’ll shut up now.”

Huffing a laugh through his nose, Stephen rolled his eyes, glancing at Tony fondly. “When have you ever shut up for me?”

Tony smirked, gracing Stephen with a kiss on the cheek. “Never, babe.”

Sitting back to think through the details - there would be hundreds of technicalities, dear Lord - Stephen mapped out what working at Stark Industries would look like until a headache bloomed in the back of his skull. Well. If he was thinking about it so much it made him dizzy it was probably worth a try. “Alright.”

“Hm?” Tony had zoned out, blinking innocently as he turned back to Stephen. “What?”

“I said alright,” Stephen repeated, glancing down and swallowing nervously. “Consider this my application. I’ll work for you, if you’ll accept me.”

When Tony didn’t reply Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. Shit. Did Tony regret the offer now? Was this some sort of moral test he’d failed? It made sense - especially considering how much Tony valued the way Stephen hadn’t blown the money. Regretting every word he’d ever spoken, Stephen grabbed Tony’s hands. “Listen-”

“Fuck yes!” Tony let out a whoop of triumph, scooping Stephen into his arms and dragging the man into his lap. He continued hollering happily into Stephen’s ear, but Stephen wasn’t listening - instead he was laughing, leaning back against Tony and giggling into the man’s neck. “Don’t scare me with gratuitous pauses again,” he grinned, closing his eyes and breathing in Tony’s scent. Warm and musky and full of comfort. Almost like home.

“What can I say, I’m a diva,” Tony grinned, breath hot against Stephen’s cheek. His coarse beard scraped along Stephen’s cheek. “And you’re an absolute _queen._ ”

Stephen gasped, indignant, turning in Tony’s lap to pin him with a look. “Oh, you’re asking for it!” he huffed, eyes narrow, their chests pressed together from crotch to sternum. It was extremely sexy, but Stephen’s current mission in life was to seek revenge. “You think _I’m_ a queen, you complete-” His lips were fastened with a searing kiss, and Stephen closed his eyes, swallowing his own words as Tony shoved his tongue into his mouth. Parting with a groan Stephen shivered. “-... ass.”

Smirking, Tony raked his gaze across Stephen’s face. “If I remember correctly you’re the one who took it in the ass, but-” Stephen swatted Tony silent, so the man let it drop. “But seriously. I’m happy you’re gonna come work for me. Like, _so_ happy.”

Stephen nodded. Excited, too, but he had a few questions still hovering in the back of his mind. “About that. Won’t your HR department be a bit… Reluctant to hire on your dropout boyfriend?”

“Nope.” The reply was instant, and Stephen frowned. With a sigh Tony waved it off. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. They work for me, not the other way around. If I vouch for you they’ll be cool with it.”

“They won’t be judgmental?” Stephen asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. Insecurity on full display, he managed to keep himself from turning red, but Tony’s kind smile put all his doubts to rest.

“Absolutely not,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss Stephen gently on the lips.  

Reassured, Stephen relaxed against Tony, curled up in his lap like some oversized cat, nearly purring for happiness. His prospects hadn’t looked so bright in, well, forever. Three months ago he never would have dreamed sitting on a street corner would get him so far. How could it have given him so much? Must be a tear in the fabric of fate. Security had felt so foreign since the accident that he found bathing in it now surreal and holy. Then Tony had to ruin the moment by making a ‘boss/employee roleplay’ joke and forcing Stephen to pinch his neck.

Jokes aside, Stephen’s world was facing right-side-up.

 

* * *

 

Stephen thought Tony was stuck-up. Stephen thought Tony had an ego larger than the sun. Stephen thought Tony was, in short, a bit much.

But Tony was nothing compared to Obadiah Stane.

Stane was tall, grotesquely bald, with squinty metal eyes and a long, thick face. His head was a bit large for his body, and the body itself was stocky. Stephen didn’t like the way he looked, or the way he sounded, with a mellow, gravelly voice that jarred his ears and made the pins in his fingers stand on end. When Tony invited Stane to Stark Tower to meet Stephen and discuss his new place in the company, Stephen had nearly backed out and left. Corporate executives made him uncomfortable, and they should make everyone uncomfortable.

“Well, I do have to say I’m surprised.” Stane sat across from them in Tony’s lounge, his feet kicked back on the coffee table as he scanned Stephen up and down. “I’ve only ever seen you two together in the tabloids, let alone in person or as part of a business arrangement.” Based on the crook at the corner of his mouth, that was supposed to be a joke.

Tony laughed courteously, in a way Stephen could only assume he reserved for meetings. “Well,” he said, leaning forward and slapping a hand on his thigh, “I can tell you first and foremost that he’s extremely smart. Could have gone to Yale, if he wanted to.”   
  
Obadiah quirked an eyebrow. “Really. And why didn’t you?”

Stephen cleared his throat, adjusting his cuff-links. Tony had given him enough warning that he’d managed to rent a suit for the occasion. It was the only thing he’d ever purchased with the savings account. “Financial reasons, unfortunately,” he replied.

Stane nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I’m sure you have some experience through NYU?” That was Pepper Potts, and she was proving to be a saint. Before Obadiah had arrived she’d given Stephen a congratulatory hug and warned him about all the little, annoying things he’d have to put up with working for Tony Stark. Tony hadn’t denied any of them, saying good-naturedly it was nothing he wasn’t putting up with already. Their laughter had cleared the air. The air had been sucked back out of him as soon as Obadiah Stane entered the room.

“Yes, I do have hands-on medical training in several-”

“That began when you entered grad-school, correct?” Stane interrupted, pulling a manila envelope from his briefcase. God, the man had a file on him. “But you ceased to participate in any laboratory exercises around a year ago - why is that?” The man doffed a look of confusion, but his eyes were hard and his dislike thinly veiled. Stephen was being grilled.

“I’m sure if you looked in your file you’d find out,” Stephen shot back. He’d done it without thinking, but boy he didn’t regret it.

Obadiah nodded, a thoughtful smile lighting up his face. “That’s right.” Glancing back down at the papers, he nodded some more. “It says here you were in a car accident - a pretty severe one, too. You were driving, luckily no one else was in the vehicle, but rain obstructed your view as you were passing a car and you failed to see the truck in the oncoming lane.” Stane glanced back up at him with a neutral expression. Stephen refused to be made uncomfortable. That didn’t keep his hands from tingling.

“That’s correct,” he affirmed. “I was taken to the hospital where they inserted eleven pins into my fingers. I had gone to medical school to become a neurosurgeon, but that option is obviously closed to me.”

“I see.” Stane seemed impressed by his honesty, so Stephen counted that in his favor. “Would you mind if I see your hands?”

“That’s enough, Obie!” Tony snapped, leaning forward defensively.

Pepper cut in, resting a hand on Obadiah’s shoulder and levelling a look at Tony. “I think we’re finished for now, don’t you think?” she encouraged. Stephen could not agree more, and he swallowed roughly.

“Yes, that’s more than enough,” Tony huffed, standing and straightening his Armani suit. He was glaring at the wall, but his anger seemed to radiate from all sides. Tony Stark was not one to be tangled with. Stephen was only glad Tony was on his side.

With an odd chuckle Stane agreed, standing up and shaking hands with first Pepper and Tony before he’d depart. Finally, he turned to Stephen, shaking his hand and giving it a hard squeeze. Stephen nearly winced, and his back went stiff as he watched Obadiah leave. Hopefully he’d never come back, the bastard.

“Alright, Pep, make sure Obie isn’t at any further interviews, you get to conduct them instead.” Tony helped Stephen to his feet, eyes scanning him as if for injuries. “You’re alright, right, that wasn’t too intense? Obie can be a jerk sometimes-”

“Hey Tones!” Pepper called, packing up her briefcase and glancing over her shoulder. “Maybe take it down a notch.”

Stephen’s head was spinning and his hand was sore, but he had the sense about him to be grateful. Ducking his head, he tried to make himself as small as possible - this was all so embarrassing - but Pepper had left and he had Tony’s full attention.

“Hey. You sure you’re good?” Tony’s thumb pressed Stephen’s chin up, and Stephen nodded as his cheeks turned pink. “How about we have a drink, yeah?” Stephen was quick to agree, and Tony pulled him over to the bar, mixing them martinis in his particular fashion. “Something to take the edge off,” he teased in a low voice. Giggling, Stephen knocked his back immediately and asked for another. Refusing to second-guess a man in distress, Tony promptly obliged. After they’d both had their fill, Tony sashayed over to his stereo and put on some swing music. “Come on, let’s get all this off your mind.”

Stephen grinned as the Pink Panther theme began to play, and Tony sauntered over to him, snapping his fingers. “You’re terribly seductive,” Stephen chuckled, allowing Tony to pull him close and rest his hands on his hips. Wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders, he enjoyed himself as they ambled around the room, talking in low tones and pressing sloppy kisses against each other’s cheeks. Eventually the kisses devolved into bruises and hickeys and Tony pinning Stephen against a wall and rutting into him like a teenager.

After they’d orgasmed, calmed down, and taken a very languid shower together, Tony took Stephen up to the master bedroom, making a fuss of changing him into a proper pajama set and tucking him into bed. Stephen laughed the whole time, squirming around as Tony laid down across him and brushed against all his ticklish spots. Hours later they finally fell asleep, and Obadiah Stane was far from their minds.

But not for long.

_ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ_

Groaning, Stephen turned over in bed, throwing an arm across his face. “Turn off your phone…” he grumbled, smacking Tony’s arm. It must be nearly four in the morning, for heaven’s sake! The mattress dipped as Tony shifted to sit up. “No, just turn it off…!”

“Yeah, what, what do you want? … Obie, please I- … Really … Alright, give me like ten minutes.”

“Tony!” But Tony was already out of bed and stumbling into some clothes. “Tony, come back to sleep…” Stephen put on his most convincing pouty-face, but Tony wasn’t paying him any attention at all.

“Jarvis, I need to suit up, meet me downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stephen tossed himself out of bed, standing bolt upright, feeling a surge of panic as he struggled to wrap some sheets around his midriff. “What was that voice? Tony, what’s going on?” But Tony was already gone. “Asshole, answer my question!” Stephen stumbled down the hall in the vague direction of Tony. Barely awake, wiping the crust from his eyes and chasing his boyfriend around who was about to ‘suit up’ - “You aren’t about to put that damn thing on are you?!” Stephen shouted. Following the sound of crashing objects and metal grinding against metal Stephen managed to keep up with Tony without actually seeing him, following the man down the stairs where he was blocked by a glass door. Tugging at it, it refused to budge. “Hey, let me in!” he demanded. Beyond the glass was some sort of techy workshop he’d never seen before.

“Access denied.”

Stephen gawked up at the ceiling. “Excuse me! Are you locking me out? What are you anyway?”

The same voice greeted him again. “Access denied.”

Frowning hard, Stephen pounded his fist against the glass. “Tony!” He was being completely ignored in favor of the suit, which was being shoved onto him by two droids who clearly belonged with a high school robotics club. Stephen was completely dumbstruck. Tony was going back out in the dumb armor. Single-mindedly, with complete disregard for the boyfriend pounding against the glass partition who was about to lose his mind.

Struggling to fly steady, Tony crashed around the room for a time before he was out the door - well, the hole in the ceiling. Stephen was practically screeching, slamming his fists against the glass. “Oh, come on!” At a loss, he turned in a circle. How could he get inside? “Hey, you!”

“What can I help you with, Doctor Strange?”

“ _Doctor_ Strange?” Stephen crossed his arms and glared up at the ceiling.

“Mr. Stark has requested I refer to you as Doctor Strange,” the accented voice explained.

Stephen huffed. “You’re not seriously going to let him go flying off by himself are you? What is he even doing? You _have_ to let me in!” It felt pretty stupid, begging to a thing he couldn’t see, but it was his only option.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t have the proper clearance.”

Groaning, Stephen ran a hand through his hair and stomped his foot. “Come on! You know Tony’s a dumbass - now let me in!”

“Access denied.”

Stephen huffed. “Please…?”

“Access denied.”

Scouring his brain for any reasoning that would appeal to AI, Stephen slumped hopelessly against the wall. “Who’s going to convince him to come back and not get himself killed?”

“...”

“Access granted.”

Stephen grinned, pulling himself to his feet and opening the door. The workshop was a lot larger now that he could see it at a proper angle - it was more of a combination workshop-garage. Tony’s playpen. “Now how do I help him?” Stephen demanded of the ceiling voice.

“If you would approach the console, sir, I’ll patch you through to the suit.”

Turning, Stephen took note of the various computers arrayed in a circle around a plush swivel-chair. “Thanks- What should I call you?”

“Jarvis, sir.”

“Right, Jarvis…” That’s what Tony had said earlier. “Why Jarvis?”

“I would rather not say, sir.”

Eyebrow quirking, Stephen shrugged, sitting himself in the swivel chair and taking in the numerous screens in front of him. So what he had to deal with was technology beyond his knowledge, an embarrassed AI, two stupid robots who were whirring in protest at his presence and a clearly suicidal boyfriend. Should be easy. “I’m patching you through to the suit now, Doctor Strange.” Stephen didn’t have time to be grateful as Tony’s voice crackled through the speakers, and his face was displayed on the screen to Stephen’s left, along with an exterior view from the armor and a readout of its specs.

“Jarvis, what the hell are you doing-”   
  
“Tony Stark what the hell are _you_ doing?” Stephen snapped, glaring at Tony’s image. Some sort of view was provided to Tony, because he glared straight back.

“Doctor Strange insisted on helping, sir,” Jarvis supplied.

“And you let him?” Tony snapped, becoming distracted by something else. There was wind rushing around him Stephen could distinctly hear.

“How high up are you?” he demanded. “And yeah, Jarvis let me help because he clearly has more of a brain than you do! And I’m not a doctor-”

“Technically Jarvis isn’t a ‘he,’ more of an ‘it’-”

“I take offense to that, sir.”

“Alright, shut up, no more trying to distract me or ignore me!” Seeing red, Stephen wanted to see no more. “No bullshit, Tony. Tell me what you’re doing and I’ll try to help you. Then I’ll kick your ass later.”

Tony let out a disbelieving bark of laughter, and after a moment of consideration agreed. “Fair enough. I may not thank you for this, but I can admire your ability to convince Jarvis to break you in. What did you do, trade him some blackmail material for-”

“I appealed to your life, since I’m clearly the only one who cares about it.” Stephen didn’t heed how bitter he sounded, because he was bitter. Young and bitter.

Tony didn’t try to reply. “Here’s the situation. See that map on the screen to your right? Yeah, that little blip is me. Yes, I know I’m currently approaching Mexico, but that’s beside the point.”

“How do you even fly so quickly?” Stephen breathed, squinting at the read-out on the screen.

“Beside the point, remember? I promise when all this is squared away I’ll sit you down and explain the whole thing.”

Huffing, Stephen tugged off his gloves, trying to figure out whether the computers operated via touch-screen or weird holograms like the ones from Star Wars. Seemed like a combination of both. “Alright, fine. Now what are you doing in Mexico?”

Tony’s image crackled and wavered, giving Stephen a brief heart-attack, but the signal cleared and his audio was uninterrupted. It was an extreme view - Tony’s face behind the faceplate and nothing more. Tony’s pale, slightly panicked face. “Technically I’m heading to Belize, because there’s some nut with drones terrorizing civilians. Probably the head of some drug cartel getting too big for his boots.”

Stephen took a moment to process this, spinning around to view the other screens. One displayed live video-feed of said nut terrorizing said civilians. It made his stomach twist. Another was devoted solely to the real-time map displaying Tony’s location, another displayed which of the suit’s systems were active, and then he was back around to Tony’s face. “So what, you’re gonna go in there guns blazing?”

“Are you offended?” Tony snapped. “Because I have limited options.”

“I’m a pacifist, Tony, you know this…” Stephen replied absently, turning back to the live video. Druggist or not, this guy had some technology similar to Tony’s. That made Stephen nervous. “Are you sure you don’t know who he is?”

“How do you know it’s a he?” Tony insisted, trying to inject some levity. “Did you just assume their gender? That’s sexist, babe.”   
  
“Are you kidding?” Stephen watched the fuzzy CCTV footage, seeing the unknown suit tear up buildings and toss around men, women and children. “Look at that, there’s no thought behind it - that’s pure masculine aggression.”

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“Right, okay, so here’s where things get fun!” Tony grinned, his teeth oddly distracting as Stephen waited. “The plan is, I fly down there-”

Stephen huffed. “You have no plan.”

“You are correct.” Tony had the wherewithal to look sheepish, but it wasn’t nearly enough of an apology for Stephen to forget about it. Meanwhile, the man in Belize was setting fire to buildings somewhere in Belize City. “I was thinking I could just scoop up the drones and blow them up in the air-”

“What about collateral?” Stephen insisted.

“-drop them into the ocean, then try and pick up the big guy. Sound reasonable?”

Stephen sighed. “Not reasonable, no, but it’s the best you can do.”

Tony smiled, and it was genuine. “You’re gonna be my guy in the chair on this, okay Steph? I’m going to tag one of the drones, you’re going to break into whatever system they run on and let me know each one’s exact location.”

“I am?” Stephen scoffed. “I don’t know the first thing about _hacking.”_ He spat the word out, like it had a bad taste.

“Jarvis will help you, alright babe?” Stephen nodded, watching with bated breath as the blip on the screen that was Tony approached Belize. Three-hundred kilometers. Two-hundred kilometers. One-hundred-

And suddenly the suit was on-screen. The CCTV footage - pulled from street corners, police vehicles, high-security facilities - registered a maroon-and-gold blur. “Jarvis, keep eyes on Tony, got it?” Stephen demanded.

“I wasn’t planning on anything less,” Jarvis replied, and was it possible for AI to have attitude?

Turning his attention to external video footage relayed from the suit, Stephen watched as city streets passed in a haze, listening to Tony’s heavy and nervous breathing. Suddenly he was careening into the armed assailant, Stephen’s hands gripping the arms of the swivel-chair. “Tony!”

“Yep, yep I’m good!” Tony announced, throwing a roundhouse punch at whoever the fiend was. This other version of the suit was large, silver, dirty and clunky - clearly assembled from scrapyard metal rather than industrial-grade material, but it was holding up against Tony’s blows.

“I thought you were going to tag one of the drones first!” Stephen hissed, wheeling around to examine a fifth screen which had just come on line, the ominous word W A I T I N G glaring back at him.

“Working on it, honey!” Tony replied, voice strained as he grappled with his opponent. What had begun as back-and-forth punching had quickly escalated into something more lethal - the lunatic pulled some sort of wacky knife, lined with pulsing blue electricity, was swinging it around Tony’s head. Stephen was about to scream when W A I T I N G gave way to O N L I N E. The screen came to life, displaying a three-dimensional map of Belize City. Stephen was receiving incredibly detailed live projections of each of the drones Tony would need to take down. “I’ve got them!”

“Good, you’re doing great Stephen, now tell me where they are.” Tony quickly disengaged from the fight, blasting off to find his first target. “In case I can’t take care of it Jarvis is going to help you find a system override. That’ll turn them all off, in case they self-destruct.”

“Self-destruct?! Are you telling me these things could blow up in the city?” Stephen felt white-hot dread clench its fist around his heart. All those people… Shaking his head - he had to focus - he quickly read off the first location. “The one closest to you is about 500 yards off-”

“Yep, I’ve got it.” Tony could clearly see some version of what Stephen was seeing, making it easy for him to find the first drone without further assistance. The drones were modeled off the suit as well, but solid rather than hollow, wielding guns that were clearly compensating for something. Tony quickly destroyed the first drone, using his gauntlet to wring the metal head off its metal shoulders. Metallic shrieking filled the speakers and sparks flew, and Stephen flinched back automatically. In the meantime lines of computer code presented itself to him, and Jarvis quickly helped him navigate the encryptions and reduce it down to raw binary. Stephen’s heart was clawing its way through his ribs, hammering against tender skin, demanding an out from the whirlwind of emotions and panic and the sound of Tony fighting lunatic robots and dodging bullets and _what if he gets hurt-_

Then the screen went blank. Stephen’s heart gave up, dropping through to his stomach. All of the screens went blank. There was no more noise, no more screaming and no more Tony. The only thing left was a single inquiry.

P O W E R  D O W N  D R O N E S ?

Feeling like the hollow shell of Tony’s suit, Stephen typed his reply.

Y E S

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last of my pre-written chapters - expect the following ones to come out more slowly :)


	5. the iron man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minutes dragged by like eternities. Stephen flattened himself out on one of Tony’s sofas, staring at the ceiling like it was the most fascinating constellation in the cosmos. He traced every inch of the smooth plane over and over in his mind just to pass the time. His eyes ran dry, and trying to close them stung. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his phone.
> 
>  
> 
> Stephen is being eaten up inside, but good news is on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I hope you still enjoy!

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Stephen had curled himself into a ball on Tony’s chair, staring vacantly at the still-empty screens. He’d googled the average time it would take a plane to fly from Belize City to New York City. Discounting a connect flight, it would be roughly seven hours. Tony could fly faster than that, granted - much, much faster - but Stephen would give him more time. The suit might be damaged, or broken... Seven hours. He’d been waiting for two already. That’s five more hours until he completely _lost it._

“I _said_ what are you doing in here?!” And Stephen returned to the world, looking up in time to see Obadiah Stane, looming over him and dragging the swivel chair away from Tony’s computers. “You don’t have the clearance to be-”

“Stephen!” And that was Pepper, hurrying over and moving Obadiah aside. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Tony flew down to Belize, I had to help him somehow!” Stephen blurted it out like a floodgate opened behind his lips. “Someone called in the middle of the night- You!” Leaning forward, he pointed an accusing finger at Stane, “So this is your fault!” To his utter horror he realized he had not put his gloves back on, so both Stane and Pepper could see his shaking, scarred hands in all their glory, but that mortification faded in favor of worry. “So where is he?!”

“Stephen, it’s alright, don’t worry…” Pepper rested her palm on his arm soothingly. “How about you put on some clothes and come upstairs, okay?”

Stephen blinked. Was he-? And yes, all he had on was the bedsheet he’d grabbed in his haste to follow Tony down here. Turning pink, he nodded, standing up and wrapping it into a sarong of sorts. “Is Tony okay?” he asked, following Pepper and Obadiah upstairs. “And why did Jarvis go offline?”

“You know about the AI, then?” Stane evaded, pissing Stephen off even more.

“Yes, he broke me in,” Stephen mumbled, and once they arrived in the lounge and he’d put on something more socially acceptable he demanded more answers.

“Jarvis went offline sometime during the fight,” Pepper explained calmly, sitting on a loveseat with the air of someone putting up with a lot of shit. “Tony contacted us on a cellphone and we just sent a jet down.”

“So he’ll be back in fourteen hours?” Stephen clarified.

“Oddly specific, but yes, something like that,” Stane replied, peering at Stephen with a very curious look on his face. It wasn’t quite as… probing, as the looks he’d given Stephen before, but it was still heavy with questions. “We sent Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes down so he has some company.”

Stephen nodded, but his brows furrowed. “Who’s that?” 

“Rhodey’s in the Air Force, and he’s Tony’s best friend, so he’s in good hands.” Pepper smiled, giving Stephen a consoling pat on the knee. “He’s been dying to meet you, you know.”

Stane snorted, a kind of derisive laugh. “Aren’t you Mister Popular?” he teased. At least Stephen hoped he was teasing. Stephen was in fact the _opposite_ of popular. He was grateful Tony wouldn’t be alone, at least. But at that moment Stephen felt _extremely_ alone. Luckily, Stane wasn’t mean enough to kick Stephen out of the tower - which was very generous, since he was a majority shareholder, and most of his funds were sunk into this place, he was quick to remind them - but Stephen was nearly tempted to invite Wong over to help him wallow in his misery. At least he’d have someone here who was sympathetic.

Minutes dragged by like eternities. Stephen flattened himself out on one of Tony’s sofas, staring at the ceiling like it was the most fascinating constellation in the cosmos. He traced every inch of the smooth plane over and over in his mind just to pass the time. His eyes ran dry, and trying to close them stung. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his phone. Thirteen more hours.

Pepper had gone off to make sure everything was prepped for Tony. Stane disappeared to handle whatever national security fallout there would be. And Lord, how had Stephen found himself involved in _that?_ Months ago he’d just been trying to drag himself through med school - now he was going to have to testify to the _federal government_. Whatever. As long as he got this job at Stark Industries he didn’t mind. As long as Tony was safe. Twelve more hours.

He thought about drinking. Like, really starting to _drink._ After the accident he’d turned to morphine to keep the pain at bay, but that was an expensive habit, and the pain had faded with time. It hadn’t even hurt as he frantically followed Jarvis’s instructions to shut down the drones. Now he felt like he’d need something else to stave off the _emotional_ pain. Alcohol was pretty cheap, anyways. But instead of drinking he sat motionless. Eleven more hours.

Briefly, he turned on the news. There was Tony Stark. The ‘Iron Man.’ Anchors were discussing the fight in Belize, and the nuke incident in Siberia. Sighing, Stephen turned the television back off. Ten more hours.

What would Wong think? Would he approve of the job at Stark Industries? Would he think that this was taking things one step too far? Especially if he was going to be working with this new ‘Iron Man’ project. Stephen still wasn’t sure how he felt about the suit. He sure knew how he felt about Tony being in it, though. Nine more hours.

Stephen rehearsed everything he’d say to Tony when he got back. _You complete idiot. You handsome courageous moron. You good for nothing but better than anything and everyone I’ve ever known frustratingly kind genius. I’m going to kick your ass hold you close make love to me I think I might love you-_

He thought he would cry. Eight more hours.

Stephen got something to eat. Whatever it was tasted like ash in his mouth. Seven more hours.

Stephen remembered his sister. Six more hours.

Stephen fell asleep. Five more hours.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

When Stephen woke up Tony was sitting by his side.

“Hey, hotshot…”

Tony looked exhausted. Covered in grime, sporting a few bruises and a busted lip. He was smiling, but it was forced and tired and a bit sad. Stephen felt his heart seize in his chest, almost unable to speak, feeling like the world was taking a moment to right itself. Tony was here. Tony was in one piece.

“Tones, is he okay?”

Blinking, glancing around, Stephen turned his head to see a man in a crisp green uniform, observing them from across the room. Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes.

“I’m sure he’s fine, right Steph?” Tony chuckled, his smile more genuine. “Just tired, is all.” Tony raised a hand to cup Stephen’s cheek, and Stephen blinked, trying to process this. “Stephen?”

Slowly, he sat up. Taking a deep breath, staring into Tony’s eyes, trying to see into him and through him, he couldn’t help but smile. There were a dozen things he wanted to say. But he was tired and now that Tony was here he didn’t have the heart to be angry at all. “I hate you a lot.”

Tony laughed breathlessly, using his hand to pull Stephen in, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I know. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Closing his eyes, Stephen sighed. “I know.”

“You did a great job, by the way.” Rhodey approached them casually, curiosity piqued, giving Stephen an admiring appraisal. “The way you handled that tech was better than I could have done.”   
  
“Of course he did a good job, he’s a genius,” Tony insisted, lips moving against Stephen’s skin as he drew the man into a proper hug.

Stephen’s cheeks turned pink. “Jarvis helped…”   
  
With a thoughtful hum Tony nodded. “I might need to tweak his ethics programming because of you,” he teased.

“Is it really so bad that I helped?”

“No,” Rhodey intervened, smacking Tony upside the head. “You’re lucky he was there at all, or those drones would have demolished you.”

“You know, I _am_ lucky,” Tony agreed, wagging a finger at Rhodey and raising his eyebrows. “Lucky that _he_ is now _officially_ hired. Obie thought that was enough of a trial by fire to justify taking you on.” Tony turned his finger towards Stephen. “Congrats, babe.”

Rhodey was laughing, and Stephen smiled breathlessly. Nice. “Thank you, Tony. Now take me to bed.”

“Sex or sleeping?”   
  
“Sleeping, please,” Rhodey requested, tossing his uniform jacket off to the side. “I have to bunk in the room next to yours.”

With a snort Tony moved to pick Stephen up, wrapping an arm under his legs and the other behind his shoulders. “Woah, woah-” He winced, giving up and setting him back down.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Stephen demanded, swatting Tony away and standing up. “I can carry myself.”

Pouting, Tony crossed his arms, following Stephen down the hall. “Yeah, duh. It’s called _walking,_ idiot.” Eventually they made it back to the bedroom, where Stephen pushed Tony down onto the bed and divested him of the t-shirt and jeans he’d been given on the plane. “What’re you doing? Rhodey-”   
  
“I’m giving you a check-up,” Stephen replied in all seriousness. “Now hold still.”   
  
Marvellously entertained, Tony obliged, letting Stephen turn his head from side to side, checking for signs of a concussion. Then he massaged the man’s neck, moving down to twist his shoulders and arms, then feel his chest and poke at his ribs. Stephen frowned when Tony winced a bit. He’d come back to that. Moving behind Tony, kneeling on the bed, he pressed down each side of his back, feeling up his spine before standing again and testing Tony’s legs. “It seems you’re all set, despite the bruises, except-” He fingered at Tony’s fifth rib.

“Ow ow ow, okay, I get your point…” Tony shied away, rubbing his chest soothingly and shooting Stephen a glare. “Lay off, I’ll get it checked out later.”   
  
Sighing through his nose, Stephen shook his head. “Fine. But it’ll hurt like a bitch the longer you go without some painkillers.”

Tony cocked his head back, looking smug as he stood and made his way into the adjoining bathroom. It had wood floors and marble fixtures and an entire wall was one big mirror. To Stephen it barely resembled a bathroom at all. “Good thing I’ve got lots of ibuprofen,” Tony announced. “Lots and lots of ibuprofen…”

Rolling his eyes, Stephen slumped onto the bed. He could probably use some of that - his entire body was one giant headache.

“So Stephen,” Tony called from the bathroom, his voice a bit echoey as it bounced around the smooth walls in there before drifting out into the bedroom, “Before you give me a grand lecture on the merits of _not_ using the suit, in my defense-”

“Don’t.” Stephen interrupted Tony sharply, though the force behind his words was quick to die. “You don’t need to explain. You already did, remember?”

Tony emerged from the bathroom with a wet towel draped across his shoulders. “Yeah, I did,” he recalled, approaching the bed, “But not in this exact scenario.”

Stephen sighed, letting his eyes fall shut as he curled into a tight ball on his side, waiting patiently for Tony to crawl up behind him. “You’re doing what you think you have to do,” he whispered. “That’s fine. But don’t- Don’t go running off in the middle of the night without telling me what’s going on and why, okay?”

There was a very long, very heavy pause. Eventually the bed dipped, and Tony’s skin - still warm, still tender - slid against Stephen’s clothed back. “Alright,” Tony replied, his tone thoughtful. “Alright, I- Thanks. For not- you know. Being difficult about it.”

“By rights I should be,” Stephen huffed, the weight of sleep already heavy. “But I’m just glad you’re alive. And you saved a lot of lives, I might add. Did you hear what they’re calling you on the news?”

“Yup. ‘Iron Man.’ Not very original, but it does have a ring to it.”

Stephen snorted. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“No room up there to rent, sweetheart.” Tony pressed a quick kiss to Stephen’s cheek as they drifted off.

Rhodey thanked them the next morning for sparing him the indignity of listening to Tony having sex for the thirty-thousandth time. Tony scoffed, turning to Stephen and assuring him it had really only been twenty-thousand times, and how could Rhodey possibly exaggerate like that, it was indecent. Banter like that was enough to put the events of last night far from Stephen’s mind, and he enjoyed a relaxed breakfast with his boyfriend and the man he quickly learned knew Tony inside and out. Rhodey was a bit intimidating, in all honesty, though not in an intentional, openly-hostile way, like Stane. Instead, Rhodey was a well-balanced mix of honest intentions and ruthless determination - in this instance to embarrass Tony as much as possible. Regaling Stephen with stories of Tony’s college escapades, drunken shenanigans and wild parties clearly left Rhodey smug, proud that he’d sent Stephen into peals of laughter and Tony into a tizzy.

“So, when’s your first day?” Rhodey asked. “And what is it exactly you’ll be doing for him?” He jerked a thumb at Tony.

“I’m still not entirely clear on that…” Stephen admitted, glancing at Tony as well. Obviously he’d be working with the new suit - the new version of ‘Iron Man.’ But the specifics were beyond him.

Humming mischievously, Tony took Stephen’s hand in his, swinging their arms beneath the table. “Well, Mister Doctor,” he lilted, “You’re going to be our medical consultant. Since the suit is primarily designed for relief it needs to be intuitive, it needs to be able to diagnose, relocate and even treat. It’ll involve working with an ethics consultant of course, and a slew of other specialists and programmers and technicians, but you’re good with people-”

“I am?”

“You are, so I have zero concerns. And your paycheck will be suitably handsome, just like you.” Tony winked, and Rhodey groaned.

Stephen blinked. That… That was a lot. Tight heat pulled at his temples. Would he really be the best choice for such a massive project? Surely there were other medical professionals, with years of experience and actual _degrees_ who would be much better candidates. And what would his co-workers think? Stephen was just a twenty-something with nothing to show for his time in college. “I-”

“You’ll be working with lots of young people, don’t worry,” and since when had Tony become a mind-reader? “I’m trying to bring up-and-coming talent to the forefront on this project, sustainability geeks-”

“You’re trying to catch up with Elon,” Rhodey quipped.

Tony huffed. “ _Yeah,_ that too.” Stephen had to laugh. It was decided he’d start two weeks from the day, at eight o’clock sharp, at a mixer with Tony and everyone else who’d been signed onto the project. It would give him enough time to study up on the suit and ask any questions he needed to before he really got his hands dirty.

Eventually Rhodey went on his way, giving them his best and asking for Stephen’s number, promising to send him old pictures of Tony doing stupid things. “Well he’s really nice,” Stephen commented, turning away from the door and taking Tony’s hand as they headed up to the lounge.

“Don’t get too familiar,” Tony teased. “He stole my college boyfriend, you know. I didn’t speak to him for like, three whole days.”   
  
Stephen grinned. “You got over it so quickly?”   
  
“Bros before hos.”

Stephen scoffed. “Am I a ho?”

“Obviously.” Winking playfully, Tony dragged Stephen towards the sunken couches, instructing Jarvis to dim the lights and turn on the lava lamps. “To set the mood,” he reasoned, making Stephen chuckle. After getting situated - Stephen leaning into Tony’s arms, Tony’s legs kicked up on the coffee table - they chatted about trivial things, the conversation ending with idle kisses, Tony nibbling Stephen’s lips in an infinite tease. “By the way,” he breathed. “There’s one more thing you should do before you start working for me.”

Distracted by Tony’s relentless kisses, Stephen hummed, barely hearing the man’s words. “And that would be…?” he inquired, finally peeling himself away from Tony’s lips.

“Take some out of the fifty thousand. And buy an apartment.”

Stephen froze, lips parted in indignation. “But I already have-”

“Buy something that isn’t a studio,” Tony interrupted, holding Stephen’s hands and taking his gloves off one by one. “Something _nearby,_ so you don’t have to drive, and so I can visit you, and-”

“Tony!” Stephen scoffed. “Do you have any idea what rent is like up here?”

His boyfriend shrugged. “Well yeah, it’s kinda my fault. This tower sent premiums skyrocketing, you should have-”

“Are you sure?” Stephen didn’t mean to interject. But apprehension and worry were taking hold of his chest and it was a very uncomfortable feeling.

Tony tilted his head, looking at Stephen with fond amusement. “Of course. For starters it’s not my money anymore, it’s _yours_ .” He raised his eyebrows pointedly. “Secondly, I just asked you to do it, so I clearly don’t have a problem with having you buy yourself a nice apartment where you can work and I can come visit, _very_ often.” Smile sincere and playful, as usual. Stephen couldn’t say no to that.

“Fine. As long as Wong can move in with me. I’ve been mooching off him for a few years now, he deserves something better.”

Tony’s smile turned from one of surprise to pride. “Done. He’s a decent guy anyways. Tell him I’ll get him a city bus pass if he doesn’t have one, NYU isn’t exactly close.”

Stephen beamed. Never did Tony’s generosity fail to amaze him. “Thank you, Tony.”

“You’re welcome. Now I’m going to fuck you into next Wednesday.”

Stephen grinned. “As long as it isn’t the Wednesday after. I have work, you know.”

Tony laughed, full and loud, leaning in to kiss Stephen with vigor.

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates may come a little more slowly from now on. Comments and Kudos are appreciated :)


	6. mixer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you aren’t nervous at all about the job, right? No second thoughts?” Tony glanced over his shoulder at Stephen as they stood in the kitchen, taking out a pan to make omelets. “The mixer thing is tomorrow, you know.”
> 
> “You’re the one who wanted me to work for you,” Stephen commented, though his tone was fond. Figuring Tony felt a little guilty, thinking he’d forced this job down Stephen’s throat, he made an effort to keep himself relaxed and enthusiastic. But Tony was right. He was nervous as hell. 
> 
>  
> 
> The new job comes with new co-workers and new ideas. Bad, bad ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to switch from posting on Sundays to posting on Fridays. Hopefully that will generate more interest :) I'll update either weekly or every two weeks <3

“Tony...! God god Tony oh-!”

Above him Tony grinned breathlessly, tossing Stephen’s legs over his shoulders with the ease of an expert, changing the angle. Stephen moaned, rolling his hips to meet each eager thrust. Six months ago he never would have dreamed of having sex at all, let alone sex this intense or this _often._ Rumors about Tony’s endless libido were true, and as Tony stuck a few fingers into Stephen beside his dick he had no shame in admitting that. It was all too damn _good._

“Ready to cum for me, baby?” Tony hummed, his words choked out in sharp pants. They’d been at it for what felt like ages, their sweat-slicked skin slapping together obscenely, rocking Stephen back against the headrest. Holding on for dear life, Stephen gasped, biting his lip as his cock bobbed between their stomachs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Sh-Shut up,” Stephen scolded, before he dissolved into a litany of nonsense as Tony’s dick rammed against his prostate over and over, sending heat ripping up Stephen’s spine, making him moan and see stars.

“That’s my baby-boy…” Tony praised, removing his fingers from Stephen’s stretched hole and wrapping them around his cock. “That’s it, cum for me Stephen-”

Dirty talk did him in every time. With a shout Stephen painted their chests with his cum, slumping back against the pillows, hole fluttering around Tony’s cock as the man came right behind him. Tony collapsed against Stephen’s chest, smiling happily, letting his flaccid dick slip out before rolling over onto his back. Taking a moment to appreciate the sensation of Tony’s cum dripping from his ass, Stephen rolled over as well, resting on his side and placing his head against Tony’s chest.

“So pet-names are a definite go,” Tony decided. Stephen rolled his eyes. “What? You clearly liked it. Call me Daddy next time.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Too weird.”

“Yeah, I guess with all that money and your name on my employee roll that’d be pushing the envelope,” Tony teased, his smile wide as he turned to nibble Stephen’s ear. Their relationship really was weird.

Eventually they dozed off, the morning sun drifting ticklishly through the curtains. They’d gotten started at around eight, and it was ten before they dragged themselves out of bed and into the shower. Tony had insisted Stephen stay at the tower until he’d found a new place - both to make up for the Belize incident and to keep him around as long as possible. Stephen didn’t mind either way.

“So you aren’t nervous at all about the job, right? No second thoughts?” Tony glanced over his shoulder at Stephen as they stood in the kitchen, taking out a pan to make omelettes. “The mixer thing is tomorrow, you know.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to work for you,” Stephen commented, though his tone was fond. Figuring Tony felt a little guilty, thinking he’d forced this job down Stephen’s throat, he made an effort to keep himself relaxed and enthusiastic. But Tony was right. He was nervous as hell. What would everyone think of him?

“You know that one episode of Seinfeld?”

Stephen frowned. The abrupt change of topic threw him, but he shook his head. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Tony sighed. Tossing some butter into the pan, he turned around to lean against the counter, looking at Stephen with a sheepish expression. Stephen sat at one of the island stools and listened attentively. “There’s an episode where Jerry hires a maid to clean his apartment, and he ends up dating her. He still pays her to clean the apartment, but George and Elaine are convinced she’s taking the money because they’re sleeping together. The joke is that it’s borderline prostitution and Jerry, y’know, kinda freaks out.” Tony bit his lip, something Stephen had never seen him do before. “The point being… I realize I’m going to be paying you regularly, and I’ve already dropped fifty grand on you- I mean, I know you’re going to do your job and be great at it, just- I don’t want you to think you have to- I was joking about it earlier but-”

Stephen had to stop him right there. “Tony…” he hummed, reaching so his boyfriend could take his hands across the counter. “Never once have I felt pressured to sleep with you. Not the first time, and certainly not now.” As far as their relationship was concerned, Stephen had no regrets.

Slowly, Tony nodded, taking Stephen’s hands. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. You’re right, I just… I’m sure people will start accusing us of _something,_ so I just had to check that we’re on the same page.”

Stephen agreed. “Definitely.” They were lovers, and that’s all that mattered to him. Surely their relationship would be treated like any other office romance, except the get-together happened before instead of during. Surely no one would bat an eye. Tony had said so as soon as Stephen agreed to take the job. And technically Stane hired Stephen, not Tony, so they should be in the clear. After sorting out those details the two of them decided they’d lay the matter to rest once and for all. If anyone made a deal out of it they wouldn’t be given the time of day. Stephen could finally start something with his life, begin anew. That’s what they agreed to. In theory. But the anxiety was still there.

What was tomorrow became today, and Stephen found himself standing in front of Tony’s obnoxious bathroom mirror, adjusting his tie with shaking hands. This was it. He was either going to be welcomed into the job of his dreams or shunned from society. Either way he’d have a nice new apartment that he actually _owned,_ but he would prefer to remain employed. He and Tony agreed they wouldn’t arrive at the same time, to avoid favoritism and for propriety’s sake, and so Stephen stood alone, frowning at his reflection. He looked thin, borderline gaunt, but his hair was neat and his face was smooth and the leather gloves he’d chosen to wear were a nice skin-tone. As Tony might say, it was show-time.

Exiting the elevator onto the penthouse floor, Stephen did a double-take. This was… a lot of people. More than he’d been lead to believe.

“There’s the man of the hour!” And that was Stane, striding over to give Stephen an amicable if forced pat on the back. “Stephen Strange, everyone.”

A slew of smiling faces greeted him, each chest adorned with a typed name tag. Bruce. Steve. James. Natasha. Sam. Peter - must be an intern. Scott. Clint. Rhodey was there, too, giving him an encouraging nod, and Pepper, which meant the only one left to arrive was the _real_ man of the hour, Tony.

“Well, I suppose I should let you mingle,” Stane decided, smiling tightly and wandering off somewhere. Stephen took a deep breath, preparing to dive into the deep-end when Rhodey and Pepper appeared at his side, thank goodness.

“Hey, welcome!” Pepper greeted. “I’m so excited for you to meet the others - this is shaping up to be a great team.” She held a mug in her hands, taking an idle sip of either coffee or tea as she glanced around.

“Well I already know Sam,” Rhodey announced, nodding in the direction of another gentleman in uniform. “He should be useful. Steve, too, but I don’t know him as well.”

“He is… Extremely muscular,” Stephen assessed, following Rhodey’s gaze, at a loss for what else to say. Steve had a nice smile, too, though the short one next to him who’s tag read ‘Bruce’ didn’t seem to appreciate his shoulder being used as an armrest. Stephen was far from being short, but he could relate to feeling like the smallest one in the room.

“Well, go socialize,” Rhodey prompted him, guiding Stephen over to join the group. And socialize he did. Scott was extremely talkative, the kind who spoke with his hands and tried to engage the entire group with his banter and charming dad-jokes. Programming was his specialty, and he’d worked at a security firm for a while after getting out of jail, which he explained with excitement and no inhibitions. He seemed to be admired - by Peter, at least, who was in fact the technician’s intern. Fifteen years old, he’d been pressured into applying by his Aunt May, but now that he was here he was over the moon, practically worshipping the ground Tony walked on, fawning over his accomplishments and calling him ‘Mr. Stark.’ Stephen was already fond of him..

Bruce, the frazzled one, was actually a physicist, bless him, with no less than seven PhDs. Suitably humbled in his presence, Stephen listened attentively as he tried to explain some of the scientific components behind the suit Peter and Scott would be programming, all while Peter kept bringing the subject back around to Tony. It was a funny back-and-forth.

Steve and James - “Bucky” - were clearly good friends, familiar to each other through the army. They were there to help Tony assemble the suit, wire the systems necessary to keep it working, and also as a measure of security. Whatever. They seemed chill. Steve’s muscles had Stephen convinced no one in the world could abscond with the suit, but with both of them not even God himself would be able to take it.

Sam was an aeronautics specialist, who would help improve the suit’s flight capabilities. Natasha was the technical advisor, in charge of coordinating the project and its components, and Clint was their entire material logistics department. Rhodey would be their liaison with Washington, Pepper would tie them together with the rest of SI, and Stane of course would be kept in the loop. And at the head of the whole thing would be Iron Man.

“So… What’s the deal, are we supposed to call the _suit_ Iron Man or _Tony Stark_ Iron Man?” Scott shifted from side to side as he posed the question, frowning in a comic way.

“I feel like those are blurred lines,” Clint supplied, resting his elbow on Bruce’s shoulder just as Steve did the same.

Bruce huffed. “Is it really a binary, though?” he asked, voice quiet but his annoyance clear.

“Well I feel like calling Mr. Stark ‘Iron Man’ is way cooler than just the suit,” Peter insisted, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, but we’re assembling the ‘Iron Man’ _project_ , and as far as I’m concerned Tony’s in one piece already,” Scott pointed out.

“ _Is_ he in one piece?” Natasha teased, and suddenly all eyes were on Stephen. His throat ran dry, but he managed to choke out a response.

“His fifth rib was fractured during the fight in Belize, but it’s not a displaced fracture, so it should heal on its own. So I’d have to say he’s in one piece, at least physically. Mentally, though…” He cocked his head.  

Bruce laughed, clearly enjoying the diagnosis, and everyone else seemed amused and satisfied. By this point the ice was sufficiently broken, the team shooting questions back and forth, asking about family and friends and _oh no_ past work, experience in their fields…

“So you actually flew on wings? Aren’t you exposed when you do that?” Bruce was completely perplexed by the story of Sam’s military escapades. Stephen was really enjoying this guy - he had brains the size of Jupiter, but his head wasn’t fat.

Shrugging, Sam brushed off the question. “Not the most practical for aviation, but I wasn’t any more exposed than these guys.” Thumb raised in Steve and Bucky’s direction, he smirked. “Got yourselves into some tangles too, I hear.”

“Not the fun kind,” Steve agreed, with a nod and a wide grin.

“Are there any fun tangles? Ever?” Scott commented, and the facial expressions he could contort on his face were pretty hysterical.

“I designed some super-adhesive webbing and that’s fun to get tangled in!” Peter announced, looking extremely proud of himself.

“Yeah, it’s neat stuff.”

Stephen’s heart nearly leapt from his throat. Tony had sauntered up out of nowhere, placing a hand on Stephen’s shoulder and grinning at Peter. He must have startled all of them, since Scott nearly tripped over himself as he shifted his weight and Bruce had a hand over his heart. The only one in no way phased by Tony’s interruption was Natasha, who gave him an exasperated smile. “Stark, so nice of you to finally join us.”

“I know. And it’s ‘Iron Man’ now, don’t know if you heard.” Finger-gunning the group he lead the way over to the lounge, where there were some open tablets and laptops waiting for them. At least Stephen had been spared from answering any questions. “Now, I’m hoping to get started pretty quickly, and since I’m late I assume you’ve all gotten to know each other.” Tony accented the last few words playfully as he sat, taking up the armchair and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves on the couches.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll forget everyone’s names by the time we actually start,” Sam grumbled.

“Hence the name _tags_ ,” Tony gesturing grandly to everyone assembled. “Now let’s brainstorm. Any preliminary thoughts?”

“Yeah, change the color scheme,” Steve requested, and Bucky chuckled next to him.

Tony didn’t bat an eye. “Can it, Rogers, I happen to like the maroon and gold. It’s ostentatious.”

“Here’s one, how about you don’t actually _fly_ the suit?” And Stephen understood Bruce’s angle one-thousand percent, but of course they couldn’t ask Tony to do that. At least he couldn’t. But if someone else convinced Tony to keep his feet firmly on the ground Stephen wasn’t going to complain.

Tony balked. “Why has this become a Stark roast?”

“Maybe Comedy Central will pick it up,” Natasha commented, scrolling idly through her phone.

“Why does no one take me seriously?” Tony spread his arms in dismay. “Don’t say anything, Peter, I know you support me.”

Scott gave Peter an affectionate hair-ruffle, helping the teen mask the fact that his face had gone red.

“And you, Stephen, so conspicuously silent.” Tony craned his neck in Stephen’s direction, giving him a pouty-face. “Aren’t you going to defend me, my sweet?”

Stephen snorted. “Are you kidding? I’m enjoying this, they’re saying everything I can’t.”

Tony drew back in a dramatic display of offense. “I am shocked and betrayed. Stabbed in the back by my own lover - it’s Shakespearean, really.”

Steve, who was sitting next to Stephen on Tony’s right-hand side, leaned over to talk in Stephen’s ear. “On that note, what’s he like in bed?” Stephen laughed, and Tony pointed an accusing finger at them both. “Conspiracy!” he declared. “They’re conspiring, I don’t like it.”

“Well, this sure is productive,” Pepper lamented, but she was smiling softly across from Tony.

“Right!” Tony clapped his hands together. “Any actual ideas? Anything that isn’t stupid?”

“But Mr. Stark, there’s no such thing as stupid ideas!” Peter reminded him, and Lord, he was such a kid.

“You know what, you’re right,” Tony agreed. “Not in the least because you’re quoting me. Lay it on me.”

And so they spent the better part of three hours bouncing ideas off each other, some of them outlandish proposals and others more adaptable concepts. Peter had a surprising number of suggestions, and Tony listened to even the weirder ones with rapt and respectful attention. Almost everyone had something to suggest. Sam suggested gliders. Rhodey wanted turbo thrusters, Steve an audio intercom. Bucky had the wild idea of adding some sort of device that could automatically repair any damage to the suit, for instance if a limb was torn off. Made sense for him to think of that, since he was personally down an arm. Bruce quietly suggested a mandate protocol, something that could override manual control in the event of extreme danger, but that was cooly struck down by Tony with no opposition. Scott suggested the suit’s programming should include security software recognition, in case any buildings had to be broken into. “To save people!” he protested when he was met with weird looks.

“And what about medical programming?” Natasha quirked an eyebrow, training her inscrutable gaze on Stephen. Of course he’d known it would eventually come to this, but he hadn’t expected it to be so jarring. “What suggestions do you have, Doctor Strange?”

Never was Stephen so aware of the fact he was _not_ a doctor. But he was prepared. “Obviously there should be a system designed to scan the body and recognize both visible breakages and symptoms of injury,” he dictated. Tony tapped away on his tablet very seriously. “It should come equipped with basic medical instruments and protocol designed to assess whether the patient should be evacuated or, in more dire circumstances, treated immediately. X-Ray is an essential, and surgical programming as a last resort-”

“And what about manual override?” Tony’s interjection was sudden, and there was a glint in his eye Stephen was very wary of. “In case we don’t trust the suit to perform a procedure correctly. If someone’s inside it, should we give the pilot the option to operate?”

Stephen paused. “Ideally, not… The programming shouldn’t be faulty in any way, and that would remove the need for manual override, wouldn’t you think?”

Tony nodded silently. Silence reigned for a long time, actually. “Fair enough.”

“So… How many of these suits are we going to make?” Rhodey asked, and as predictable as the question was, it hadn’t occurred to Stephen that there would ever be _more than one of these._

Tony’s face cracked into a grin. “How about twelve? That’s a solid number.”

Stephen paled. That was the number of them sitting in this room.

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't too happy with the beginning of the chapter, and I feel like I could have described the new arrivals more, but y'all know what they look like and I enjoyed writing the end of the chapter! Sorry it's so short!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated~


	7. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was, however, convinced the two of them would get along. How could they not? 
> 
> Move-in day proved him wrong.
> 
>  
> 
> Work progresses, but feathers are ruffled when the new housemate arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter :) I hope you like!

The apartment was spacious, but it was extremely _empty._

All of Stephen’s worldly possessions fit in just one corner of the common room, which was barely a quarter of the total floor space. There was three bedrooms, a full-sized bathroom, a full-sized kitchen, and a very open common room with floor-length windows. It was pretty much the house of his dreams, and Wong was equally grateful to live in such a nice space, though it partially offended his Buddhist sensibilities. “We’ll keep it simple,” Stephen offered, but the naked walls just made the space seem bigger. So Tony took them back to the tea shop they’d been to on their first date, and they’d decked the place out with tapestries and wall hangings and made the woman behind the cash register very happy. Now the place was much cozier, almost hazy with the scent of burning incense and minimalist in its own way. After a comfortable week getting used to their new home Stephen and Wong sat down to make the monumental decision of taking on another housemate. With three bedrooms it didn’t seem economical _not_ to invite a third person.

No one immediately came to Stephen’s mind when he considered their options, so he was happy to hear Wong’s suggestions. Someone around their age, of course, and preferably someone they’d both met before, or at least encountered. Wong came up with the perfect person on the third try.

Karl Mordo was tall, though not as tall as Stephen, with a dark complexion and pleasantly deep eyes. Stephen barely recognized him from the single class they’d shared two years before, so when the man knocked on their door after being buzzed in Stephen took a moment to identify him. Karl seemed to be doing the same, looking Stephen up and down with an interested expression.

“I might be a few minutes late, I apologize,” he said, stepping inside as Stephen welcomed him. Karl dropped his bag on the floor, staring at the space around him with a curious eye. “How have you been? Well, I hope, after the accident…”

Stephen grimaced. “You heard about that? Yeah, it was rough for a while, but now I’ve got all this, so it’s hard to complain.”

Frowning, Karl turned in Stephen’s direction. A crease formed on his brow, making him look older than he actually was. “You have every right to complain. Having your hands taken away like that? Terrible.”

Sympathy came in many forms, but this was the type that verged on uncomfortable to hear. Of course Karl meant well, so Stephen simply nodded his thanks.

“So, Wong didn’t exactly tell me how you found yourselves this lovely apartment…” Karl baited, waiting for Stephen to lead the way, which he did, escorting him through the common area and into the kitchen.

“It’s, ah, actually pretty complicated,” Stephen confessed, chuckling awkwardly as they sat at the table together. “Basically, I met Tony Stark at a bus stop-”

“Tony Stark at a bus stop?” Mordo asked, looking dubious.

“Yeah, Tony Stark at a bus stop. Long story short we started dating, I’m working for him now and he gave me enough money to buy this place.”

Karl’s eyebrows rocketed up, and he nodded slowly, body language burgeoning with questions. “I see… And there’s enough space for three people?” He glanced in the direction of the common room, which the hall of bedrooms grew from.

“Oh, definitely. There’s too much room for two of us, let alone one.” Stephen stood to make himself some tea, assuming Karl would like some as well and pulling down two mugs.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Karl leaned forward, arms crossed on the table, watching Stephen as he moved, “What is it exactly you do for Stark?”

“I’m the medical consultant on the ‘Iron Man’ project. I’m helping design some of the systems that’ll be programmed into the suits.”

Karl must have heard about this. “Suits plural?”

“Evidently.” Once he’d poured the hot water and retrieved tea bags Stephen sat back down across from him. “I can show you the bedrooms, if you’d like. I assume you’ll want to know before making up your mind.”

“I think I’ve already made up my mind,” Karl announced, and that surprised him, but the man still wanted to see the rest of the apartment so Stephen gladly showed him to his bedroom. Satisfied, Karl sat on the bare bed with a firm nod. The walls he scanned with a piercing gaze were pristine white, high, and almost concave, giving it the illusion of being a round space. Almost all of the rooms were like that. “So you’re working for Stark?” he asked again.

“Yep,” Stephen replied, hands in his pockets.

“And you’re also dating him.”

“Yes again.” Keeping his equanimity about it, Stephen leaned against the dresser. “I’ll admit it’s unconventional.”

“Highly,” Karl agreed, but there was more of humor than judgment in his voice. Luckily he let the subject drop, but Stephen had the sneaking suspicion Karl had more on his mind. Hopefully he wasn’t presuming too much.

After spending another hour or so in each other’s company, catching up on their lives and the latest hot gossip from NYU Karl disclosed he would gladly move in. Stephen was relieved. He texted Wong right away, who was on campus, just to let him know their mission had been a success. Karl would move in the week after next.

Work on the ‘Iron Man’ project would begin in three weeks, meaning Stephen still had plenty of time to relax, and Tony had a wonderful excuse to keep inviting him to the tower. After a privately catered candle-lit dinner - “Really, Tony, so much?” - they headed to the roof, where they spread out a comfortable blanket and gazed up at the stars. Pressed together from head to foot, their temples touching gently as they watched the swirling eddies of the galaxy, Stephen felt he could spend the rest of eternity like this, suspended somewhere between Earth and the heavens. Tony was more relaxed than he had been in ages - Stephen could just feel it.

“So none of the tapestries fell down, right?” Tony asked, voice quiet in reverent respect for the stars. “Those sticky strip things aren’t always the best, and as much as I’m good at mechanics, household decorating isn’t my area of expertise.”

Stephen grinned, shaking his head fondly and watching the sky continue to dance. “They’re fine.”

“It’s cozy in there, I like it a lot. Might have to butt in on you and Wong more often.”

“And Karl, now.”

“Who?”

Right, Stephen hadn’t told Tony yet. “Karl Mordo,” he repeated. “There was plenty of room for a third occupant so we invited him to move in. He’s very nice, Tony, you’ll like him.”

The hum Tony released wasn’t the normal kind. Instead of a casual-interest hum it was more of a forced-solidarity hum. “Huh. Very nice?”

“Very nice,” Stephen repeated, not entirely sure what was prompting this vague disapproval. “We’ve both had classes with him, he cleans up after himself, he isn’t loud. It’s ideal.”

“So he’s very nice _and_ ideal?”

Stephen paused, craning his neck so he could look up at Tony. Practically painted onto his face was a frown as deep as a canyon. “I said _it’s_ ideal, not he’s ideal,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?” Sharpening his tone, Stephen waited for Tony’s response, crossing his arms in a clear signal to ‘please explain yourself.’

Tony sighed. “Nothing. Nothing, I’m sure he’s great. But, you know, I haven’t met him yet- Like, I know Wong already and stuff, but I’m not sure what vibes this guy’s gonna give off so I want to make sure he isn’t, y’know. A creep, or something.”

“What, you don’t trust me as a judge of character?” Stephen snapped, affronted by Tony’s reaction. He’d never behaved this way about anyone Stephen knew before.

“Yes, I do!” Tony replied. “You’re just giving him such high praise-”

Ah. That was it. Stephen’s face lit up in a howling smirk. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not!” Tony barked, pulling away and sitting up huffily.

“Wow. Tony Stark is jealous of a man he hasn’t even met.”

“Correction: a man he hasn’t met _yet._ I fully intend to confront this guy, give him a piece of my mind.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be ridiculous Tony.” Stephen rolled onto his stomach, smiling gently and running a finger across Tony’s leg. He’d taken to removing his gloves more often around others, but it was still something he did with a lot of self-consciousness. “He’s perfectly harmless. No one will steal me away. I’m yours.”

Tony pursed his lips. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Appeased, Tony leaned down to give Stephen a sloppy kiss. Stephen returned it enthusiastically, but the nagging urge to tease his boyfriend just wouldn’t leave him. “Tony Stark, jealous…” he hummed. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Shut up,” Tony scolded, silencing him with another kiss.

Tony kept his word, butting in on Stephen and Wong as he said he would. Grilling Wong for everything he knew about Karl - “Height?” “Five-foot ten.” “Weight?” “Why would I know that?” “Studying?” “Linguistics and Anthropology.” “Myers-Briggs personality type?” “Seriously?” - Tony tried to brush off his anxiety while simultaneously building Karl up into some sort of threat. Stephen recognized that maneuver all too clearly. Succeeding in isolating himself from countless people, Stephen had fallen far, and though he knew Tony usually wasn’t the competitive type he worried the man might sink to a similar level. He was, however, convinced Karl and Tony would get along. How could they not?

Move-in day proved him wrong.

“No, that just looks ugly.”

“Excuse me?”

Tony shrugged, waving both hands in the air. “I mean I get the whole collapse-of-time-and-space in modern art, but it just looks like a gallery in here. You should, like, change the angle a bit-” Tony elbowed his way behind the bed, where Karl was currently in the process of hanging a framed reproduction of Robert Rauschenberg’s White Paintings. Karl’s lips were slightly parted, eyeing Tony with indignant astonishment as the man took the frame and tried tilting it. “If you did that- There. That would really subvert expectations, don’t you think?”

Karl frowned. “I suppose you hang your real Rauschenbergs like this,” he deadpanned. “Oh, no, I forgot! They’re Pollocks, aren’t they!” Sarcasm dripping from his voice, he took the painting back. “Stephen, spot me, will you?”

Stephen, who’d been helping fold and hang Karl’s clothes and pretending he wasn’t listening, turned around and hummed. “A little to the left. No, not that much. There, and up a little. Perfect.”

Tony huffed. “Too much white. White walls, white paintings.”

“White people,” Karl added under his breath.

Tony took a step back. “If reverse racism were a real thing I’d call you out. But it isn’t. So I can’t.”

“That’s paralipsis.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Stephen told Karl, recognizing Tony’s humor as the defense mechanism it was. “He’s trying to be a _funny guy_.”

Striding over confidently, with his hands in his pockets and a prominent saunter, Tony gave Stephen a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You love my jokes.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I tolerate them.”

Karl let out a bark of laughter, which Tony did not appreciate, if the death-grip on Stephen’s waist was anything to go by. Honestly, who would have thought these guys would clash so violently?

Wong joined them as soon as he was free, and that helped diffuse some of the tension, but what was left could still be cut with a knife. Tony gave up trying to help Karl do anything, retreating to the living room and slumping onto the couch. “I just feel like my true genius isn’t being appreciated.” His frown was clearly for show, but his nerves were prominent in his body language and the pools of his eyes.

“I didn’t know ‘genius and ‘money’ were synonyms,” Karl quipped, pulling out his phone as he passed through, Wong in tow.

“Okay, what is your deal?” Tony huffed.

“Stephen told me you have no decorating skills, so what is _your_ deal?” Karl retorted, stopping in his tracks and facing Tony with arms crossed.

Tony looked genuinely offended. “I’m here to meet _you_ and try to help _you_ ,” he insisted.

Karl smirked. “Oh, no you’re not. You’re here because of him and we both know it.” Inclining his head in Stephen’s direction, he rolled his eyes and headed back towards his room.

Stephen had been grabbing a snack from the kitchen, but he could hear every word the other men were saying. He emerged in time for Karl’s last statement and sighed.

“That’s it. You can’t try and make us get along.” Tony craned his neck to look upside-down at Stephen over the back of the couch. “This is war.”

Stephen ruffled Tony’s hair. “Stop it. You’re both being difficult.” And they continued being difficult until the very last minute, when Karl had sorted everything into its proper place and they could finally say move-in was done. Both satisfaction and apprehension played with Stephen’s heart. On the one hand, the apartment felt _wonderful,_ home-like and full and warm. He liked Karl a lot, and the dynamic between him, Stephen and Wong was wonderful. On the other hand, Tony and Karl got along as well as oil and water, which left an unsettled feeling deep in his stomach. Stephen disliked the unresolved. Most of his young life revolved around uncompleted things, and he was _still_ young, but this was yet another conflict he didn’t want to put up with. The fact that everything else in his life was flying so smoothly - for now - only emphasized how messy this _one little thing_ was. As long as the two combatants kept their distance, though, everything would be fine. With urgency Stephen told himself that.

His unsettled stomach plagued him, though, following him to Stark Tower and his first day of work. Tony sent the team an email promising it would be a ‘light day,’ but everyone was so full of energy they couldn’t keep from getting their hands dirty. Their first demand was to see the suit. Like the proud father of a very remarkable kid, Tony guided them to his workshop, where the push of a button revealed the apparatus called ‘Iron Man.’ Holding pride of place in the middle of the floor, the suit was lifted into place by ornate wiring, arms at a limp forty-five degree angle. It reminded Stephen of the Vitruvian Man.

“Awesome!” Peter cheered, bounding forward to give the thing a complete inspection. His round face became even more child-like the longer he stared at it and the larger his smile grew. “How did you come up with the idea for this thing, Mr. Stark?”

“Insomnia,” Tony answered bluntly. A few chuckles answered him.

“My only question is: When do _I_ get to fly this thing?” Rhodey gave Tony a slap on the shoulder, eyeing the suit up.

“Not for a while. I’m the only one who’s flown in it so far. Well, technically Stephen has, too.”

Stephen sat back against one of the numerous workbenches crowding the room, frowning. Hanging back markedly from the rest of the group, he had to raise his voice to be heard. “I did?”

Snorting, Tony grabbed a wrench and inspected it. “Uh, yeah you did. Remember our romantic night in Pennsylvania?” He winked playfully before turning towards the suit, intent on making adjustments.

“That was not _flying_ the suit. That was being dragged around by it,” Stephen rebutted, directing his words not towards Tony but everyone else. They were looking at him with something like surprise and smug entertainment - except Peter, who simply looked awe-struck.

“I thought you liked it,” Tony grumbled.

“Oh no, I did,” Stephen grinned. Fending off Peter’s slew of questions, Stephen hesitantly approached the suit. He still had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it was a machine capable of saving lives, a source of security for Tony and something attached to fond memories. On the other hand, those fond memories could be eclipsed by very bad ones. Tony had risked his life several times, which turned Stephen’s stomach. Any number of things could go wrong the minute a person slipped themselves inside.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll all find ways to improve it,” Natasha reasoned, pinching her chin between her fingertips. “The best way to start would be to simulate a rescue scenario. That’ll encourage the most realistic ideas.”

“Is it a high-profile rescue?” Clint asked, rapping the suit with his knuckles. “Depending on the scenario I’ll need to determine the material components. Whether we need strength, durability, flexibility…”

Bruce had snatched the wrench from Tony, tapping his temple with it. “All of them, ideally, though the elemental compounds involved could get complicated. Especially if we’re going to keep it buoyant enough to fly.”

“The fact that it’s hollow should help,” Sam determined, and by now pretty much everyone was crowded around the suit to get a better look. Stephen had ventured closer, but still lingered behind. He didn’t need to worry about the outside of the suit. What would be inside is what counted. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Tony carefully. Tony seemed precisely in his element. Racing a mile a minute, his brain was likely filing every intelligent comment away to play with later. Stephen admired that about him. Simply the way he could _think._

“Alright, how about we crack open the blueprints,” Tony suggested, slapping his hands together and instructing Jarvis to pull up the suit’s specs. It was all stuff Stephen had seen before. More interested in the intelligence systems, he let the jumble of his colleague’s voices fade away. Unable to decipher the contrite string of code filed off to the side, he piped up quietly. “Jarvis, display ethical mandates in plain English.”

“Yes, Doctor Strange.” Another holographic panel sprung to life, displaying a complicated web of mandates, all with interlocking and overriding conditions. A beat of silence followed.

“If I ask Jarvis to do something for me will he do it like that?” Peter asked, looking excited.

“Nah, kid, I haven’t updated his instruction protocol.” Tony crossed his arms, in no way ashamed. “Just me and Stephen for now.”

“Ooh, how special!” Scott gave Stephen a friendly little punch, taking his arm and dragging him closer to the group. It was a slow process, getting comfortable around these people. As much as he wanted to leap immediately to unshakable trust, Stephen’s brain simply wasn’t wired for the unconditional. So as more time was spent around the others and in small groups amongst them he identified calming traits about each member.

Scott was a very handsy guy, but not in an obnoxious way, and he seemed to take great care to avoid touching Stephen’s lower arms and hands. He was a conscious person without having to put in the effort. Consideration came naturally to him.

Bruce was witty, but not in a demeaning way. He kept his language to par with what laymen could understand, which made communicating among the group much easier. And the way he crooked his mouth to the side when he smiled was something Stephen enjoyed. It was a sign of relaxation and comfort.

Steve had a very firm voice, but he never tried to challenge or argue with another person. Of course he would debate certain topics when it was necessary, but he was respectful and he gave off extremely warm vibes. Always ready with a toothy grin for Stephen when they made eye-contact, it was hard to deny his endearing nature.

Natasha was arguably the most professional of the lot, but not necessarily in a bad way. Her guiding presence did a lot to keep conversation and innovation flowing. It was like having a solid wall to lean on.

Stephen got a very similar impression of Sam and Bucky. They were down-to-Earth, supportive, and tragically handsome. He briefly thought about sharing the thought with Tony, but if Tony’s reaction to Karl was anything to go by he’d best keep that to himself. Anyways, all that strength hardly cast a shadow. Instead it held him up, kept him in the light. Made him feel safe.

Clint was a sarcastic bastard. Stephen liked that.

Peter was quick to turn his worshipful attention not just on the others - to be expected - but on Stephen as well. That was a bit of a surprise, honestly, but Stephen counted himself among the lucky to be a recipient of the kid’s admiration. It helped him aspire to do the best he could. To be the best he could.

Rhodey and Pepper were already very familiar to him, but they grew to be trusted confidants and even better friends. He didn’t see a whole lot of them on the job - which had passed from its first day to its first week - but after hours, if he spent time with Tony at the tower, more often than not they were there, and Stephen felt very welcomed in their intimate trio-turned-quartet.

A lot of his down-time was spent at the tower, in fact. After three nights in a row with Tony in the vast halls of the building, a naggling sense of guilt wormed into his chest. Hadn’t he just bought a lovely new home, and didn’t he have two housemates he should spend time with? Telling Tony he’d stay at home more often ended less swimmingly than he thought. With a tight smile the man agreed, sure enough, but there was something lingering there, unspoken. Exhausted by a busy first week of planning and drafting and simulations, he didn’t pursue the issue, just trudging home.

“Where have you been? You practically disappeared, Wong was worried.” Karl was making some sort of midnight snack when Stephen returned. It smelled heavenly. Collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs, Stephen scrubbed a gloved hand down his face. “Work, mostly. The tower with Tony.”

“Thought so,” Karl replied, a playful smirk on his face. “He seems to work you like a mule, that man.”

“What, Tony?” Stephen scoffed. “He wishes he could. He’s too soft to be hard on me.”

“Not in bed, I assume.”

That came out of the clear blue sky. It was one thing for Wong to make a joke like that, since he’d been around since before the beginning. But Karl? A bit  uncomfortable. “Um…”

“I’m sorry.” Karl took his plate - it appeared to be rice - and sat down next to him. “That was intrusive. Feel free to ignore me.” He smiled again, bright white and cheerful, resting his hand on Stephen’s back and letting it linger a while too long.

Stephen swallowed roughly. That was the _opposite_ of something he could ignore.

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a week-long break from updating, just to refresh myself, but who knows ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Expect another update either next Friday or the Friday after. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated~


	8. love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen, I’m sorry, I was just-” 
> 
> “I take it the honeymoon phase is over?” Stephen smiled a bit sadly, running a hand down Tony’s cheek. If that was all this was he could manage. 
> 
> Frowning, Tony made an abortive gesture by tossing his head to the side. “That’s not-... Alright, I guess I’d better explain some things.”
> 
>  
> 
> Tony has been distant. The reason becomes more complicated than Stephen would think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, I have posted this week! The break I needed from writing turned out to be only a few days long. Oh well, haha
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Would you mind holding this steady for a second? Thanks.” Flipping down his visor and digging his hands deep into the reactor he was welding, Steve hummed quietly to himself. Stephen obligingly held the outer panel open as Steve worked inside, watching the sweat drip down the man’s blonde temples and chiseled jaw. It was something he could easily picture Tony doing, and so his thoughts wandered, imagining Tony’s biceps hard at work as he hammered or twisted something into place, skin glistening-

“That should do it.” Steve pulled away with a triumphant nod, removing the visor and wiping his forehead against his sleeve. With an awkward cough Stephen let the panel swing shut. “Thanks again. I know you have your own job to do-”

“It’s not a problem,” Stephen insisted. In fact, his own work for the day was essentially finished. His assignment had been to map out the first set of five operations the suit would be programmed to perform, then to consult with Scott and Peter through Natasha about programming. He’d even learned a bit of hardwiring in the process, though if he was asked to repeat it now he couldn’t.

“Well that’s good then.” Steve’s face lit up with his charming, toothy grin. “Seems like you’ve done a lot of bouncing around, helping with this and that.”

“Guess I’m curious,” Stephen admitted, shrugging absently as Steve grabbed a socket wrench and closed up the reactor. It was a working prototype of a new power source for the suit, and it had yet to be retrofitted properly. But it was still progress, which they were all slowly making.

“Been busy without me?” Behind them the door slid open and shut - Jarvis was programmed to give them all access to the lab, now - and Bucky strode in, his pace firm and straight. Stephen had imagined it would be difficult for the guy to keep his balance, what with a single arm; even with damage confined to his hands Stephen’s equilibrium could be thrown off, so it was a bit of a wonder to him how perfectly poised Bucky was.  

“Everyone’s finishing up now,” Steve observed. They were the only ones left in the lab, in fact. Sam and Clint had been around early in the day, while the others stuck by through the afternoon and evening. Now the lab was eerily quiet without them. “You’re late to the party, Buck.”   
  
Bucky shrugged. “You know I hate parties.” Stooping down to help Steve scoop up the reactor, the man looked like he would lose his balance, so Stephen darted forward to help. “Careful with your hands, man,” Bucky warned, but between the three of them it was easier to move the absurdly large thing off to the side. Gloves pinched between the metal and his skin, Stephen winced a bit and shook his hands out after they’d finished. “You good?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why exactly are you staying late anyways? Nat said you were done by four.” Bucky seemed genuinely curious, which was an odd thing to Stephen. This is what he would usually classify as ‘small talk,’ but Bucky clearly didn’t believe in words with empty meaning.

To be honest with himself, Stephen wasn’t entirely sure. Of course he wanted to see Tony, at some point. After he’d stopped staying over at the tower on workdays he’d barely seen the man apart from weekends. It was hard to catch Tony’s attention when he was in the midst of the project, completely consumed by everything he was so eager to do. Stephen missed him. He’d rather stay late a few days a week and risk blurring the lines between work and play than reduce his time with Tony to rapid Saturdays. All told, he didn’t regret his decision to stay home more often, but something felt a little off.

As Steve and Bucky packed up to leave Stephen pulled out his phone. Texting Tony might be his best chance of catching him tonight.

**Sent: Where are you?**

A few quiet minutes passed before there was a response.

**T: In a meeting with Stane. Kill meeeeeeeeee**

Stephen chuckled. Some things never changed.

**Sent: Life is so tough, huh?**

**T: First-world problems**

**T: Still won’t be out for another half an hour at least :(**

**T: Pepper’s telling me to put my phone away**

**Sent: You probably should.**

**T: Nah. Since when do I ever do what I’m told? ;)**

**Sent: Not since I’ve known you.**

There was another long pause without any replies. Stephen sat heavily in Tony’s chair - the same plush, swivel-y one he was only too familiar with - watching with amusement as Dum-E and U twirled around trying to clean up the lab. As fastidious as the group was they were hard-pressed to find anyone who’d clean up after themselves. Eventually Dum-E grew bored, abandoning U and whirling over to Stephen. The claw had quite the personality all by itself. “Jarvis?” Stephen asked. “When did Tony make it?”

Jarvis knew what Stephen was talking about. “When he was sixteen, sir.”

“Wow.”

When Stephen’s phone buzzed again he glanced down, face lighting up in surprise.

**T: Are you mad at me?**

His reply was automatic.

**Sent: Why would I be mad at you?**

An immediate response:

**T: Cause I’ve been kind of avoiding you?**

**T: Like, not avoiding you but not approaching you either, haven’t you noticed?**

Had he noticed? Of _course_ he’d noticed, but he hadn’t been calling it that. Avoidance. Had Tony really been avoiding him? Was that it?

**Sent: Why are you avoiding me?**

**Sent: Wait, are we having this conversation via text?**

Heart seizing in his throat, Stephen waited. Text was the easiest breakup platform. An out to end all outs.

**T: It’s up to you**

Pinching his nose between finger and thumb, Stephen took a deep breath. Whatever this turned out to be, he’d rather have it said face to face.

**Sent: I’ll wait. Let me know when you’re finished**

**T: K, meet me in the penthouse?**

**Sent: Okay**

On apprehensive legs Stephen made his way to the elevator, pressed the proper button, and waited. Deafening silence crushed down just as the elevator shoved him up, his organs bobbing as the laws of acceleration kicked in. When he reached the penthouse floor a clinical smell washed over him. It had clearly been cleaned in the last however-long since he’d been here. Sinking down onto one of the couches, Stephen pulled his knees up to his chest and whipped out his phone, scrolling blankly through whatever social media struck his fancy. It reminded him of those nights at the bus stop. Even the gloves.

Sleep was quickly claiming him when the doors slid open, startling him awake. Tossing his phone to the side, Stephen made to stand, but before he could there was a pair of lips crashing against his, stealing the air from his lungs. Gasping, Stephen quickly reciprocated, running a hand through Tony’s hair and dragging him closer. Finally they parted, Tony’s bright eyes scanning him up and down.   
  
“Hi, Stephen,” he breathed.

“Hello.” Stephen quirked an eyebrow, bringing his other hand to card through Tony’s hair as well, wondering what the story was this time.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I was just-” 

“I take it the honeymoon phase is over?” Stephen smiled a bit sadly, running a hand down Tony’s cheek. If that was all this was he could manage.

Frowning, Tony made an abortive gesture by tossing his head to the side. “That’s not-... Alright, I guess I’d better explain some things.”

“Please do,” Stephen invited him, pulling Tony so the man’s ear was pressed against his chest.

With a sigh Tony began. “So. Um, yeah, well things have really been picking up speed around here, and I’ve been so busy the days are going by in a blur. I chalked it up to the schedule, but I realized I was actually doing it on purpose. You know, not seeing you. And the reason why is- kind of stupid, actually, on my part.”

“What’s stupid about it?” Stephen asked, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders and squeezing.

“I’m nervous.”

Stephen blinked, tucking his chin and glancing down. “That’s it?”

“That’s not _it,_ asshole, it’s a big deal why.”

Nodding, observing Tony’s tone was more tired than angry, Stephen gave him another squeeze. “Why are you nervous, then?”

Chest heaving against Stephen’s, taking an audibly deep breath, Tony spoke quietly. “There’s something I have to tell you, Stephen. I love you.”

Stephen’s heart flipped in his chest. That _was_ a big deal. For Tony, at least. To hear the infamous playboy had professed his love instead of lust would be stunning to the average human being. For Stephen, however, it just seemed the natural progression of things. Especially since he felt the same way. During the Belize debacle he’d admitted it to himself in a moment of fear and grief. He loved Tony. Maybe he’d fallen too easily, but it was the truth, and Stephen accepted it without hesitation. But he’d let it slip from his mind - not in a forgetful way, but in a subconscious, why-would-he-question-it way. His love for Tony had become so internalized he’d completely forgotten to say it aloud. And now here Tony was, beating him to the game. Feeling a bit embarrassed, but hardly surprised, he placed a delicate kiss on Tony’s head. “I love you, too.” And it felt so right to say it.

Tony abruptly pulled away, glancing up at Stephen with surprised and suspicious eyes. “Wait, really?”

Rolling his own eyes, Stephen nodded. “Of course, idiot. I’ve loved you for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Of all things Tony looked a bit disappointed. Like he wanted this to be some sort of divine, emotional revelation. Not so.

“I didn’t think I had to,” Stephen admitted, unsure if that was a good thing or bad. Surely he could have done better. Maybe staged some grand romantic gesture. But he hadn’t. It didn’t seem like his love needed to be revealed to Tony. They clicked so well, understood each other to such an absurd degree he thought it was obvious. He hadn’t been expecting Tony to say anything either, in fact.

Digesting the words, Tony slowly nodded. “I’m not sure how I feel about that-”   
  
Stephens’ stomach sank. “Tony-”

“No, let me finish.” Tony held up a hand in a silencing gesture, but quickly brought it down to pull off Stephen’s gloves. “I’m not sure how I feel about that, so I’m going to focus on the fact that you love me too.” Smiling shrewdly, Tony brought Stephen’s palms up to give each a delicate kiss.

Stephen shivered despite the chaste touch. Many questions hung in the air unanswered, several issues they should resolve and work through. But Tony seemed hellbent on ignoring them all - all of Stephen’s shortcomings, the fact he took things for granted, the fact he owed everything to Tony but _what had he given him in return?_ Emotional cocktails brewing in his stomach, Stephen tried to ignore their churning and focus instead on Tony’s lips, how they moved against his his wrists and hands and made his organized mind turn to jelly, but it was difficult. Very difficult. “Tony…” he breathed, coaxing him in for another kiss, trying to give him everything he hadn’t given with his lips alone. Tony bit his bottom lip hard, strangling a gasp up his throat.

“Love you, Stephen…” he whispered, and suddenly Stephen was in the air, being carried somewhere - the bedroom? But no, that was a table behind him, and Tony was wrapping Stephen’s legs around his waist and they were going to bang on the table _that’s pretty hot._

“I love you…” Stephen replied, the words almost stuck in his throat. He could say those words forever, but did he deserve to hear them from Tony, after all? Except Tony was grinding against his clothed ass, a wonderful distraction, prompting Stephen to hump the air wildly, trying to increase the friction. They were both rock-hard, still tucked into their pants, but Tony quickly changed that, backing away to strip Stephen’s lower body before picking him up again and bucking against him roughly. Stephen moaned, Tony’s dress-pants dragging between his thighs.

“That feel good, baby?” Tony teased. Stephen could do nothing but nod. Reaching into his pocket, Tony pulled out a well-placed bottle of lube. “I thought it might end like this, so-”

“Heathen,” Stephen cut him off, smiling before his lips parted and the word tapered into another moan. Tony had wrapped a hand around his cock, giving it a quick tug before slowly stroking. Biting his lip, Stephen pressed his hips upward, seeking more.

Tony dropped Stephen’s dick, coating his fingers with a generous amount of lube. “Think you can come just from my fingers, baby?” he suggested, reaching down to tease Stephen’s hole with the pad of his thumb. Stephen groaned, head tossed back against the hard granite. He was nearly delirious with arousal, didn’t care what Tony did as long as he did _something._

After lightly thumbing Stephen’s ass, slipping the first knuckle in a few times only to pull it out again, Tony finally plunged two fingers in at once. Stephen jolted. A heady moan ripped up his throat. God, that felt good, the sudden sting that came with being opened like that. It had been a few weeks since they’d last done this, so he wasn’t exactly loose. Tony was still being careful, though, watching Stephen’s face, Stephen’s gaze flicking between Tony’s eyes and the spot where the man’s fingers disappeared from view. He groaned again.

Eventually a third finger was added, and Tony spread them wide, seeking Stephen’s prostate and finding it with a sharp jab. Stephen gasped, bucking down, demanding more, and Tony obliged him, massaging the bundle of nerves with a languid ease that drove Stephen up the wall. His cock was already leaking desperately, his lips red and swollen as he chewed on them.

“Careful, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” Tony warned, bringing his free hand to pry Stephen’s teeth from his lower lip, slipping his thumb inside his mouth as he did so. Groaning, Stephen sucked on the digit, nibbling and licking it and letting the man finger-fuck him from both ends. God, he’d never felt so completely _used._

“That’s it, that’s my Stephen…” Tony moaned, and Stephen could feel their dicks pressed together now, his body pinned beneath Tony’s weight as he was debauched. He tried to speak, but his words were caught around Tony’s fingers, three of them sliding against his tongue. “My Stephen, mine…”

That did it. Stephen came hard, vision white. Splayed limply against the table, his entire being shaking, he took deep breaths, whined as Tony kept moving against him, inside him, his fingers still hard at work tugging his tongue and ramming against his swollen prostate, overstimulating him. A few tears slipped from his eyes, escaped down his cheeks.

Tony stopped. “You alright baby?” he asked, fingers retreating from Stephen’s mouth. “Need me to stop?”

Stephen took a shuddering breath. “J-Just put your dick inside me.”

Tony still didn’t move. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, Stephen, you already came for me.”

“I want to.”

Tony smiled, tossed his clothes aside, quickly positioning himself over Stephen’s entrance and sliding in with one fluid stroke. Stephen simply relaxed, wrapped his arms around Tony’s back, dragged him in deeper as the man slowly pumped in and out, obscene squelches and soft gasps filling the room as the rough treatment was exchanged for something smooth and slow. After what felt like ages of swimming in each other Tony came with a sharp moan, spilling inside him and keeping him full, refusing to move and massaging the tops of Stephen’s legs, watching as tears dripped down Stephen’s cheeks in small rivulets. Stephen had sworn to himself he would never cry during sex. Evidently he was wrong. But the emotional release that came with it was worth it. Tony really loved him. It was in his eyes and his lips and his voice and his skin and the intimate caress of his member inside him.

“You alright, honey?” Tony’s voice was hoarse where it tickled his ear, but tender in their afterglow. ‘Honey,’ was new, domestic. Stephen nodded, letting the tears dry on his cheeks. Tony gently kissed Stephen’s neck, and Stephen reciprocated, mouthing along Tony’s temples and planting soft kisses in his hair. “Stay over tonight, okay?” Tony asked. “I know you don’t want to-”

“Who says I don’t?” Stephen breathed, his eyes already sliding shut.

“No one.” Tony’s voice was quiet, and Stephen was out like a light, unaware as he was carried through the tower and laid into bed.

Tony called off work the next day, feeding Stephen a quiet breakfast in bed and completely pampering him. Stephen enjoyed every second of it. It wasn’t until Tony had an unrelated meeting in the late afternoon that Stephen left, walking home with something like a spring in his step. All of his insecurities had been wiped from his mind. He was simply basking in the happiness that came from spending time with Tony. God, he was even _humming_ to himself when he reached the apartment, unlocking the door and striding inside.

Wong was sitting on the couch, looking frumpled and very sleepy. Stephen couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. While Stephen had been whisked away by Prince Charming into a world of ease and delights, Wong still had to wade his way through a degree.

“How’re you holding up?” Stephen asked, watching as Wong yawned and huffed.

“I am,” was the trite reply, and Stephen chuckled. “You’re in a good mood, I see.”

“Yep,” Stephen replied cheerfully, grabbing some grapes from the refrigerator before joining Wong on the couch.

“Does it have anything to do with you not coming home last night?” Wong inquired, abandoning the sprawl of books and papers across the coffee-table. Let it be known the man was an insatiable gossip, and probably looking for a reason to procrastinate. Stephen liked that about him.

Popping a grape in his mouth with a triumphant grin, Stephen cocked his head back. “Tony said he loves me.”

Wong clapped his hands together with glee. “Finally, getting somewhere!” he beamed. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised. Had he not said it already?”

“No, he hadn’t, but I wasn’t surprised either. I mean, I knew I loved him for a while now, so it didn’t seem like some huge unveiling when he said it. It was still a big deal for him, though.”

“And for you?” Wong asked, tapping his chin with his finger.

“Well yeah, it was a big deal for me too!” Stephen protested. “I guess I just thought it was a ‘well-duh’ thing. I dunno, does that make me a terrible person?”

Wong shrugged. “Not really.” A beat of silence passed before he spoke again, which warned Stephen this might not be something he wanted to hear. “And what about the timing?”

Stephen frowned. “What about it?”

“Was there any significance to telling you now? Why not sooner?”

“I mean, I don’t think he realized it until recently,” Stephen rationalized.

Wong rolled his eyes. “Maybe not. But it’s obvious to anyone in a ten-mile radius he’s head-over-heels. Do you think something triggered the realization?” And there was the leading question Stephen was waiting for.   
  
“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Like Karl, maybe…?”

Stephen nearly choked on his grape. “Excuse me?”

Wong cleared his throat. He was radiating waves of discomfort. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Stephen, it must be said. This might be Tony’s way of asserting himself in your life. He clearly sees Karl as a threat, you know.”

Stephen practically shook with indignation. How could Wong say that? How could Tony possibly do that? Tell him he loved him just to stick it to Karl? It was absurd, Tony loved him of course _but did he_ and he didn’t need Karl’s antagonism to tell Stephen how he felt _but did he_ and there went Stephen’s diffidence rearing its ugly head, and suddenly he was on his feet and pacing the room at an anxious trot.

Wong sighed. “Stephen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I hope you regret saying that,” Stephen snapped, feeling his eyes water. And just when everything had been going so perfectly!

“What’s happening?” A cautious voice floated in from the hallway, followed by Karl himself, leaning against the entryway with a frown.

“Nothing,” Stephen snapped, shoving his way down the hall and retreating to his room. Slamming the door after him, he angrily changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth and tossed himself into bed. Fuck.

There was a hesitant, hollow knock. “Stephen?” Karl called. “Are you sure you’re alright?”   
  
Stephen sighed. Now he just felt bad for being bitchy. “I’ll be fine…” he called. “I’ll be fine, I just- Need some time to myself.” Karl seemed to think that was answer enough, his footsteps disappearing down the hall. Stephen knew he had to apologize - and how would that go, explaining himself, how would Karl respond? - but for now he fell into a fitful sleep.

God fucking damn it.

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated :)


	9. call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment he resolved to speak with Tony the very next day, tell him he’d been upset and why and bare his heart and have Tony bare his and they would clear everything up and just be two fools in love. Simple as that. 
> 
> Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry about that impromptu three-week break! I've been seriously busy so I hope I'll be able to keep updating semi-consistently. Anyways, here's an apology chapter:

Tony didn’t love him. That had to be it. Tony had only said it to ward off  _ Karl,  _ of all people. Karl, who might not get along well with most living things but was essentially harmless. Stephen felt like his heart had gone numb in his chest. He quietly went about the motions of getting ready for work - sliding into his suit, combing his hair, tugging on his gloves. None of this changed how he felt about Tony - Stephen was still desperately in love with him, but it was just a bit disappointing that Tony’s words were prompted by fear and insecurity instead of actual love. That was the only explanation that fit in Stephen’s head. 

Walking to Stark Tower felt like trudging through mud, but he tried to keep a smile on his face as he entered one of Tony’s labs. Today was meant to be a briefing day. Bruce would give them a virtual demonstration of the suit’s abilities so far, and they would modify their original ideas to fit the capacity of the machine to carry them. Tony had also made a quip about personalizing each color-scheme; the cat was out of the bag so far as the notion they would each get their own. Mixed opinions abounded. Peter and Scott were ecstatic. Natasha, not so much. Stephen had kept his own thoughts carefully guarded. Picturing the lot of them flying around in those things made his stomach lurch. 

Redesigning had more to do with physical than programmatical issues with the suit, so while Tony, Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint readjusted the suit’s specs - and while Natasha and Pepper lounged off to the side discussing business matters - Stephen, Bruce, Scott and Peter stood around doing a whole lot of nothing.    


“Is it really so important that  _ everyone  _ is here for  _ every  _ meeting?” Scott complained. 

“They might need us for something, who knows…” Bruce adjusted his glasses, the sleeves of his lab-coat billowing around. Quintessentially a scientist. 

“It’s boring just watching them,” Peter grumbled, looking like a bundled nerve ready to spring. Stephen remembered having that kind of energy once. 

Bruce shrugged. “They do our job, we do ours. I kinda wish there was more communication, though, on a regular basis. Not just through Nat - she’s great, don’t get me wrong. But, y’know, it should be all or nothing, right?” 

“Yeah, like I have no idea what they’re doing over there,” Scott observed. “Won’t any adjustments to the interior to accommodate equipment mean I have to change the hardwiring? Seems a bit unequal.”

“This is why we need communism...” Peter groused, and Scott seemed to think that was the funniest thing in the world, laughing so loud he drew a look from Steve. After a few minutes of proletarian uprising jokes the pair calmed down, but none of them were needed at all for the meeting, in fact. All the technical adjustments were made. Tony seemed happy, wandering over to grab Scott and ask him about expanding the suit’s information storage capacity. Peter followed them dutifully, leaving Stephen alone with Bruce.

“You alright, Strange?” Bruce asked, his voice unnervingly soft and gentle. “You’re quiet. More than usual, I mean.” 

Stephen huffed, a bit impatient. He’d intended to spend the day mapping out the next surgical programs the suit would learn. CPR and the Heimlich Maneuver, check. Bone-setting, suturing, stitching, check. But more complicated operations? Hadn’t even scratched the surface. And it was a slow process, pantomiming each detail and having Jarvis scan the maneuver onto a digital interface. From there the drive was handed off to Natasha, and beyond that he had no idea. Needless to say the process was slow and he wanted to get started. “Fine, I’m fine, just. Tired. A little annoyed, to be honest.” 

“What by?” Bruce asked, and he seemed genuinely worried, as any good friend would be.

With a sigh Stephen explained. “I guess by the fact we’re here making  _ twelve  _ of these. It’s enough Tony insists on buzzing around in one of them - as uncomfortable as it makes me I’ve accepted it’s part of who he wants to be. But the rest of us? Seems a bit overkill. Not to mention how cryptic he’s being about it.” Among other things, of course, but Bruce didn’t need to know that much. As the project grew in size and complexity it only added to Stephen’s worries about the murky water he was entering. Both with the rest of the team and in his relationship with Tony. 

Bruce nodded his acknowledgment. “I see what you’re saying. I’m not looking forward to this either, if he’s gonna make us do it. I mean, he probably wouldn’t  _ make  _ make us, but he’ll really want us to, and it’ll be hard to say no.” Bruce’s furrowed brow was busy reflecting the complex gears churning in his head. “But, now that you say it I  _ am  _ surprised he’d want  _ you  _ flying one of them. No offense! But I’d just think he’d want his boyfriend planted firmly on the ground, you know?” 

“He’d be a hypocrite if he did,” Stephen commented. 

“Maybe he just wants the company, then.”

Stephen nodded emphatically. “Of course. He’d never put us in harm’s way for the sake of it, even if he doesn’t realize we may end up there regardless.” As he watched Tony and Scott arguing from across the room - Tony’s gestures firm but wild in their excitement - Stephen realized he’d just articulated what he’d been dancing around: Tony’s subconscious mind was vastly more complex than most people would think. If Freud’s theories of the Psyche were true, that didn’t bode well for a number of things. Not in the least their increasingly complicated love-life. Subconscious trounced conscious. 

“Well, I’m gonna go work on some of those hypothetical alloys,” Bruce announced, effectively dismissing himself. Stephen said goodbye before making his way over to his workstation. It was a small, sequestered desk, with a built-in touchscreen and full access to the equipment he’d need to design and upload each operation to Jarvis’ database. After slipping off his leather gloves and replacing them with latex ones, he pulled up the virtual dummy and got down to it. 

Stephen’s inspiration had always come with a ruthless streak. Time and the real world at large existed separately from his mind and body when he was busy peeling back layers of skin and practicing major or minor surgeries. Despite the terrible shake in his hands he kept his heart steady, knowing the system would factor out the tremors and leave a flawless operation to upload in its place. All the better he wasn’t rehearsing on a real person. 

After ages in his own bubble of a world Stephen peeled away his gloves and with it his medical mind. Debridement didn’t take as long to simulate as he’d thought, which was a relief to his cramped fingers. Reality returned, and he sat down on the nearest bench, performing a series of hand exercises he remembered from physical therapy. A pleasantly empty buzz greeted his mind, like a sort of hot and neutral static. It was nice. As he zoned out someone’s hand slid over his, and he jumped, but that instinctive panic vanished when he saw it was Tony, sitting next to him with a small smile. “This isn’t too tough on your fingers, right?” Tony asked, though he looked more retrospective than outright worried. Carefully, he examined Stephen’s fingers, playing with them.

Stephen shook his head. “They’ll be fine. Just need to keep them flexible. It’s like any other muscle - you use it, it tightens, you stretch it so it doesn’t heal out of shape.” 

“But it’s more painful for you,” Tony commented, frowning down at Stephen’s fingers. “Was this really the best way to fix them? The pins?” He intertwined their fingers and glanced at Stephen’s face.

Sighing, Stephen shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. May never know, but at least the surgeons didn’t say ‘fuck it’ and chop my fingers off. Paid good money, so one would hope not.” 

“What kind of money?” Tony asked. “A lot or  _ a lot  _ a lot?” 

“A lot a lot,” Stephen replied. “Enough to drain my savings to the point I couldn’t pay for med school.” 

Tony made an affirmative ‘Ah!’ face. “So the story comes full circle,” he said. Silence descended for a time, and Tony tugged Stephen to lean against his shoulder and relax. It felt so nice, so natural just to sit like this. Only Stephen’s shame could ruin the mood - his need to ask the question burning in the back of his mind.  _ Why did you lie and say you love me? And if you do love me, why the hell would you? _

“Are you going home tonight?” Tony asked quietly, and there was need in his voice though he clearly tried to hide it. 

Stephen smiled a little. “Yes, I think I should.”

Tony huffed a little, but it was clearly playful. “Your turn to avoid me, is that it?” he teased, and that joke stung a little more than Stephen thought it would. Instead of replying he gave Tony a gentle kiss, packing up his things and heading out before he could change his mind. He had a lot to think about, to organize in his head. And he had a housemate to apologize to. 

Finding Karl was easy enough. Sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by books and tablets and frowning down at his laptop, he took up more volume than it seemed the room would allow. Sighing anxiously, Stephen dropped his things by the wall and moved to sit next to him. 

Karl glanced up with a curt smile, eyes darting back down to his work. Stephen cleared his throat to regain his attention. “Um… Sorry to bother you, but-” 

Setting his things aside, Karl turned his focus to Stephen with bored courtesy. “Yes?” 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stephen plastered on a sheepish smile. “I should really apologize to you. For being so rude last night. It was uncalled for, I was in a bad mood, and, well… I’m really sorry.” 

Nodding, Karl shrugged. “That’s alright. It happens to us all. What had you in such a mood, if you don’t mind my asking?” Attention genuinely piqued, there was little point in concealing anything now. 

Flowing from his lips like an avalanche, the words wouldn’t stop. “Yesterday Tony told me he loves me. I was over the moon - I still am! But then Wong started asking questions and then I realized Tony’s motives were all wrong, he was just- And I really only snapped at you because you were  _ there,  _ it’s not your fault Tony was  _ lying to me  _ for the sake of his own peace of mind-!”

“Wait.” Karl leaned forward, cupping Stephen’s hands in his. They’d been flying around in a flurry. “You think he was lying when he said he loved you?” 

“Well maybe.” Stephen could feel his argument unravelling at the seams. But Karl’s hands were warm and steady and very comforting. “I mean, maybe he does love me but he only told me ‘cause he was afraid you were gonna make a move on me. That’s shallow of him, isn’t it?” 

Karl frowned. “So, you think he confessed his love to you less for the sake of it and more likely because he thinks I’m going to steal you away from him?” 

“... Yes.” 

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” 

Stephen blinked. He stared at Karl, and Karl stared back at him, their expressions blank for a long time. Karl’s furrowed brow was tense and dubious, and Stephen had a hard time looking away. Then, Karl cracked a smile. Stephen practically choked as the man busted out laughing, doubling over before he clutched his heart and buried his face against the back of the couch. Stephen thought he might cry. What was so funny about this? Nothing! He jerked his hands away from Karl. “Hey!”

“Sorry…! Sorry-” Karl shook his head, waving his arm as if to clear the air around him. There was still a bubbly mirth in his voice when he spoke. “I mean, I know Tony doesn’t like me but I didn’t think you were so worried about it!” 

Stephen scoffed. “Of course I’m worried about it! He’s jealous and I don’t want him to be!” 

Karl nodded, a small smile still playing at his lips. “Let me put this another way: do you think he has  _ reason  _ to be jealous?” 

Stephen paused, slightly slack-jawed as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t embarrass them both. Cheeks pink, he mumbled an excuse. “Well, Tony’s a pretty anxious guy. It’s not like-”

“Listen, Stephen.” Karl let his hand slide down to pat Stephen’s knee. “You’re a great guy. If you were single I’d be on you in a heartbeat. But you’re not.” He shrugged casually as he leaned back. “Tony Stark doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. But somehow he’s conflated our clashing personalities with attraction to you.” Finger pointed loosely, he smirked. “And that’s rubbed off on you too, I think. So you have nothing to worry about on this end, okay? If it’s going to bother you it’s on you to talk to  _ Tony _ about it. Just tell him you’re worried and see what happens.” 

Speechless, Stephen nodded. With a grand sweep of words Karl had knocked all Stephen’s fears away, and everything felt perfectly clear. God, was he stupid. Why was everyone around him so emotionally intelligent? “What, um… What do you think I should say to him exactly?” 

“Well for one you could ask him  _ why  _ he ‘fessed his love to you, simple as that.” 

“Do you think I should ask him about  _ this  _ though?” Stephen’s words tumbled out, and he gestured between the two of them. “Just, you know- Straight up ask him. ‘Did you tell me you love me because you were afraid Karl would get to me first?’ Do you think he’d be mad if I asked him that?” 

Wisely, Karl paused. “Offended, perhaps. But maybe not mad. If it’s true that might help him come to the realization himself. But even if his feelings were inspired by jealousy, Stephen, that doesn’t make them any less real. Maybe you should give him a break and try not to be mad at  _ him _ .” 

Atlas holding up the world couldn’t have felt more crushed than Stephen did. Feeling childish and petty, Stephen scrubbed a hand down his face. Tony had told Stephen he loved him and Stephen’s reaction had been to  _ question the reason why _ . Tony deserved so much  _ better  _ than that. “God, I’m a terrible boyfriend…” he groaned. 

“I don’t think so,” Karl insisted, giving Stephen a poke between the ribs. “Maybe this is your way of questioning your own worth. Maybe you’re less insecure about Tony loving you than you are about  _ deserving _ Tony’s love.” 

The last of Stephen’s emotional reserves dried up. “Are you some sort of mind-reader?” he accused. “Or a wizard? You know, for someone who doesn’t like Tony Stark you sure are being generous to him.” 

Stephen knew Karl was aware this was a deflection, but the man played along. “I’m only being kind to him for you. That’s what friends are for. Now be a good friend in return and let me finish my paper.”

Stephen snorted, falling forward and laughing against Karl’s chest, gripping the man’s arm to keep himself from falling to the floor. He was exhausted and delirious and full of emotions. “God, I’m so stupid…!” he grinned. In that moment he resolved to speak with Tony the very next day, tell him he’d been upset and why and bare his heart and have Tony bare his and they would clear everything up and just be two fools in love. Simple as that. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to. 

Two A.M. Two in the goddamn morning he got the call, groaning and rolling over in bed to palm at the nightstand and find his phone. Blindingly bright, the screen flashed a name that made Stephen’s stomach drop.

INCOMING CALL: OBADIAH STANE

With a trembling thumb he slid the ‘Accept’ bar. “Hello?” he rumbled, voice gravelly.

“Stephen!” Stane’s greeting was unnaturally chipper for so early in the morning. “Tony wanted me to tell you he’s heading out in the suit. There’s-”

“Couldn’t he have told me himself?” Propping up on his elbow, Stephen frowned at the dark silhouettes of his furniture and the play of moonlight on the walls. “Doesn’t he have a phone in the suit?” 

“He does, but he certainly wouldn’t  _ call it  _ a phone. Too pedestrian for him,” Stane joked, and somehow that put Stephen at ease. Banter like that meant this couldn’t be too serious. Right?

“Where- Where did you say he was going?” Stephen asked, the question split by a yawn. God, was everyone at Stark Industries nocturnal or something? 

“I didn’t,” Stane said. “So far as I know there’s been an incident over Afghanistan. Rhodey let it slip to him something was up, so Tony decided to check it out himself, Lord knows why. Listen, I want you to come in. I’ll call the others, too - I have a bad feeling about this one, Strange.” 

Stephen’s heart sank. “Alright. Alright, I’ll be there soon.” With that he hung up and scrambled into his clothes. 

The walk to Stark Tower was frigid and lonely. Stephen buried himself deep in his winter jacket, the lined hood drawn tight to cover his face. A frown marred his features the entire time, his brows drawn and eyes unseeing. No thoughts raced through his mind - it was hazy and heavy, still stuffed with the cotton down of sleep. But something lurked towards the back of his skull, unarticulated. 

When he arrived the lab was controlled chaos. The air was packed to the brim with holograms, the team rushed around like chickens with their heads cut off, Dum-E and U were being tripped over as they tried to keep out of the way, and Stane was shouting in that booming voice that could rattle teeth. Stephen physically winced as he entered the space, immediately on-edge. 

“The suit wasn’t even primed- the new reactor was only half-functional!” Bruce was gesturing anxiously as he spoke - either to himself or the others, Stephen couldn’t tell - rushing from one end of the room to the other. If the ever-composed Bruce Banner was flustered, that spelled trouble. 

Stephen fell in step with him, trying to keep up. “What, what’re you talking about?” 

Bruce glanced over his shoulder briefly before continuing to one of the computer consoles. “He didn’t take the Mark I,” he explained, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Tony took the prototype of the Mark II. It’s only half finished. None of the defense systems are online, the reactor core wasn’t completely stabilized, even the damn tracking system-”

“What, so he’s flying around in a half-built suit?” Stephen snapped.

Bruce sighed, finally pausing what he was doing and turning to Stephen. “Yes, yeah. Yeah. And I don’t know where he is. I can’t patch through.”

“But Jarvis-” 

“I haven’t yet been uploaded to the Mark II, sir,” Jarvis announced, voice contained to the desktop in front of them.  

“I’m sorry, Stephen,” Bruce began, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I’ll try to figure out-”

“Get me on the phone with Rhodey,” Stephen demanded, turning away to shoot the question at Stane, who was barging his way between them. “Stane- Get me on the phone with-”

“I know, I heard you, kid,” Stane replied, voice tainted with frustration as he whipped his phone out and tossed it to Stephen. Rhodey’s contact was already open, so Stephen hit the ‘call’ button and waited, following on Stane’s heels. Everyone seemed to move at superhuman speed - Bruce attempting to find Tony remotely, the others throwing together what they could of the Mark IIB, IIC, IID-

“Yeah, Obie, what is it?”

“Rhodey, it’s Stephen. Listen to me- What did you tell Tony? Where is he?”

“Strange, don’t get mad at me. I was-”

“Sorry, sorry, watch out-!” Scott and Steve shouldered their way past him, carrying a large box full of small and half-assembled arc reactors. Stephen watched in distracted awe. God, that was a lot of raw energy. Raw, unrefined and dangerous energy.

“-issue with an army envoy I mentioned. He got excited, wanted to see what he could do-”

“You’re all insane…” Stephen grumbled, following Obadiah up the stairs and into the man’s nearby office. Putting Rhodey on speakerphone, Stephen tried his best not to implode. “So what’s the plan?”

Slumping into his chair with an exhausted sigh, Obadiah quirked an eyebrow. “I would have assumed you’d picked up on that. We’re going to try and track him remotely, if that doesn’t-” 

“He’s flying into a warzone!” Stephen cried, tossing his arms out to the side.

“We’ve got plenty of guys in the air looking for him,” Rhodey’s distorted voice chimed in, though his tone wasn’t reassuring. 

“ _ And, _ ” Obadiah continued, annoyed at being cut off, “If that doesn’t work we’re going to assemble the rest of the suits and go after him.” 

Stephen blinked. “... We are…?”

Obie nodded a firm nod. “Yes. Though, correction -  _ you _ are. I’m staying right here, holding down home base with that kid, Peter.” 

“That’s… That’s a terrible idea!” Stephen complained, disbelief contorting his face. “You- Tony might be out there but you can’t just send  _ ten other people  _ after him! That’s reckless endangerment, that’s-!” 

“I thought you’d want to go after him, being his boyfriend and all.” 

Stane’s words were quiet, but they made Stephen bristle. “Of course I do,” he seethed. “But-”

“So let’s do it, shall we?” Clapping his hands together, Stane turned to his computer. “I’ll be up here if you need me. Things seem to be simmering down out there, everyone knows what they’re doing. Just tell them the plan.” 

Stephen gaped in complete astonishment. What a fucking asshole. An arrogant, inhuman, greedy corporate asshole. “This better not be some wild publicity stunt, Stane,” he warned. 

Stane chuckled, gaze not moving from his screen. “Of course not.” 

Stephen turned to leave, but one more thought itched to be spoken. “Why not just send the hollow suits? Why not send the Mark I?” 

Stane sighed. “Priming the others would take too much time. Their autonomous systems have barely been planned, let alone programmed.” 

Nodding, Stephen headed out the door. 

Obadiah called after him. “Unless you want to take the Mark I and go out there yourself!” 

Stephen paused. 

Maybe. 

Maybe...

 

* * *

 

 

Find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated :)


	10. rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What should we do, like, go on the count of three?” Scott suggested. Bouncing on his heels again, he somehow radiated juvenile energy, even through layers of metal. “Alright, one-”
> 
> “Twothreego!” Clint finished, and they were off, the ground quaking with momentous force.
> 
>  
> 
> Stephen and the others go after Tony. They don't really have a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, it's finished! Now that I'm off for holiday break I was finally able to crank out the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy~

Thin slits for eyes. Horseshoe-balding line dividing maroon and gold. Sculpted plating like muscle. Wide metal chest. And that thing - that arc reactor.

Stephen stared hard at the suit in front of him. Objectively, it was a gorgeous machine - sleek and voluptuous in a way that was too close to being human. That’s why he found it ugly. A cheap imitation of real skin and bone, of Tony’s real skin and bone. Nothing could top that, not even something Tony himself had created. This almost-conscious item, with AI and semi-autonomous controls. If God was real - if, always had been an if for Stephen - then man must look to God like this machine looked to Stephen. Fake. But Tony - Tony was something else. Charming and soft and hysterical and intelligent. God couldn’t be real, because if God were real and mankind was an ugly machine how could that explain Tony?

After what felt like hours of sitting and staring at the suit, remembering what it felt like when Tony held him in its cold, mechanical arms, his stomach was churning with the kind of anxiety that only comes from knowing what you’re about to do is risky but you’re doing it anyways.

“Stephen?” A firm hand descended on his shoulder, and it was Steve, a hard-set look in his eye, determined to carry on with what Stephen had asked him to do. Assemble the suits. As many as they could. Put them on. Go find Tony. “We’re ready when you are.”

Slowly, Stephen nodded, rising from his seat on the work bench in front of the Mark I. “How many have you finished?”

“Only six,” Steve admitted, and Stephen had to keep himself from bristling. It wasn’t Steve’s fault - wasn’t even Clint’s fault, though the issue was they didn’t have enough material to build all twelve. Six would have to do. Stephen turned to look at the Mark I. Seven.

“Alright,” he shouted abruptly, grabbing everyone’s attention across the room. “We have seven suits. Who’s going?”

Scott groaned, running his grease-stained sleeve across his face. “We’ve been at this for fifteen hours. Can’t we at least nap-?” In that fifteen hours there hadn’t been word from Tony Stark. Not even the army had caught a glimpse of him.

“No. Who’s going?”

“Count me in,” Steve declared, large arms crossed over his chest.

“Me, too,” Bucky announced, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, none of the suits are designed to cope with the balance of one arm.” Bucky grumbled his reluctant agreement. Bucky would stay behind, and so would Pepper and Peter. Peter didn’t want to stay, but he was a minor and absolutely no one was okay with him tagging along. Steve would go. Sam and Scott and Clint would go. Natasha, too, though he hadn’t expected that.

All eyes were on Bruce. “What…?” he asked, looking up from his clipboard and bumping his glasses up his nose. After a beat of silence he rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll go…” Scott grinned, but everyone else was already heading towards the suits. Their suits. Six of them stood in a loose ring, Marks IIB through IIG, and in the middle of them stood the battered Mark I. Stephen approached it reluctantly, looking the thing over like it might pounce. He raised his hand, let the flat of his bare palm run down the metal. It was surprisingly warm.

“Alright. Let’s get these things on,” Natasha quipped. “Boys,” - she turned towards U and Dum-E - “Time to do your job.”

The bots whirred into action, and after _way_ too long (and some twisted knees and shoulders) the others were geared up sans helmets, examining themselves curiously in their new armor.

“I feel like a Mecha Power-Ranger,” Scott decided, contorting himself this way and that to try and see the whole suit. They did all look fairly ridiculous, like some matching heavy-metal band. The suits weren’t even painted yet, an atrocity in Tony’s eyes, for sure.

All but the Mark I, that is. Stephen was the last to step into his armor, Tony’s armor, this contraption that made him nervous and thrilled him all at once. Each plate fit together like rough puzzle pieces, cracking and sliding together distinctly less smoothly than the Mark IIs had. Whatever. If it fell to pieces in the sky at least there would be people there to catch him. Friends.

Chestplate. Boots. Greaves and cuisses. Shoulderplates and whatever the piece was called that wrapped around the elbows. That just left the helmet and the gauntlets. Sighing heavily, Stephen peeled his gloves off, letting them flop to the floor as U shoved the gauntlets on his hands. His fingers started aching almost immediately.

“Ready?” Steve asked. His physique was even more well-defined than usual, if that was possible. They all looked like bodybuilders with too-small heads. Covered in metal up to the chin, sternums glowing faintly as Jarvis brought their arc-reactors to life. Holding his face-plate in both hands, Steve frowned down at it. “Time for these things, I guess…”

Everyone pulled a face of varying uncertainty as they brought the masks to eye-level, almost as one. Stephen watched with silent awe as his friends disappeared, and they were replaced by diabolic-looking drones. He swallowed roughly, glanced down at Dum-E, who stretched the last helmet towards him. Somehow the damned thing managed to look excited.

Stephen was decidedly _not_ excited. But he put the helmet on anyways, felt the last drag of clean air replaced with heady, recycled fumes, saw the world devolve into faint slivers of light through the face-plate’s eyes, claustrophobia descending on him, nausea.

Oh fucking well. He had more important things to worry about.

Suddenly Jarvis’ voice rang in his ears, he could see a holographic display of the world he’d just come from which he’d clearly left, observing the others, all those other anonymous masks.

“Let’s go get Tony.”

Someone said it, and no sooner said than done. Trying to get the suits off the ground was the hardest part, really - Scott managed to collide with the nearest wall, and the rest of them flew around like popped balloons before they managed to steady themselves and actually exit the building.

“Does anyone else feel like their face is being flattened?” Stephen had to ask, wondering if the others were experiencing that pressure-sensation so similar to the way your skin folds back on a really fast roller-coaster, or even a rocketship. They had effective communication between each of the suits, thank God, or else they’d be flying in both blind _and_ deaf.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting that, too,” Bruce replied, and by the strain in his com-crackled voice he was extremely uncomfortable.

“Another modification to keep in mind,” Sam commented, the skyline of New York growing fainter and fainter as Jarvis took them higher and farther, each of them a small blip on the map he had displayed for their viewing pleasure. Afghanistan wasn’t exactly a day-trip, so it would take them a while simply to fly there. Then finding Tony was a whole other matter.

“It’s a good thing these don’t need fuel,” Natasha added, as if sensing Stephen’s thoughts. Maybe it had been a collective thought. Wouldn’t surprise him at all, considering their small army of armor behaved like a hive-mind with Jarvis in the driver’s seat.

“What’s the ETA?” Scott asked, and leave it to him to be bored already.

“About ten hours, sir,” Jarvis replied.

“Aw, man. Aren’t we flying faster, though?”   
  
“That is faster, sir.”

“Damn.”

“That means Tony probably just got there,” Clint deduced, and that was reassuring, at least. Two hours wasn’t enough time for things to go too wrong. Right?

Surprisingly, given the turbulence of the flight and the fact they were dangling hundreds of feet in the air over an ocean, Stephen managed to fall asleep, trusting Jarvis to carry them through on autopilot.

“Sir, we are inbound.”

For hours he must have been dead to the world, sleeping on his grief and anxiety and crippling, crippling fear until he was jolted awake by Jarvis’ louder-than-usual voice. Heart pounding its way into his throat, he tried to crane his neck, glance at the others, but all he could see was that endless blue sky, the blue Tony flew through with him ages ago, but now it wasn’t exhilarating, wasn’t thrilling. Now he was afraid.

Cloud cover obscured his sight for a moment or two, and then they were descending behind the rocky crags of the Hindu Kush, breathtaking and dangerous. How his head wasn’t spinning Stephen couldn’t say.

“Jarvis, any updates on what’s been going on?” Steve’s voice was commanding, though drenched with sleep. Clearly the others had been napping as well. “Anything on the news or online?” Stephen could only be grateful someone thought of that, if not him.

“Checking now, sir,” Jarvis complied.

There was nothing but crackling silence for long, long moments. Stephen held his breath, feeling the pull of gravity increase, draw him down towards the desert sand as they descended, and suddenly the screen on top of his eyes lit up, and there was fuzzy newsreel, a blur of metal colliding with tanks, surrounded by armed Afghani terrorists. Tony.

“Fuck,” Sam breathed.

“Incoming call from Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, sir.”

Stephen didn’t have to reply. Rhodey’s voice drowned out the vague screams and shouts that accompanied the video footage. “Stephen! Guys, we have a location on him, he’s-”

Jarvis brought up the map in an instant, Tony’s body a tiny blip tucked away in the foothills, and the suits made an abrupt ninety-degree twist. Stephen heard Bruce shriek.

“At some point we’ll have to take them off autopilot,” Steve warned.

“Please, God, no…!” Bruce pleaded. Stephen was glad at least one other person was anxious.

Scott seemed to be having a blast. “Hell yeah, I can’t wait to try steering this thing! I mean, we’ve just been hanging out in them, you know? Not really taking the reins for ourselves-”

“Lang, you can stop talking now,” Natasha requested.

“Guys, I see it!”

A glint, bright gold with hints of red, shining defiantly from a small basin.

“Jarvis, zoom and enhance!” Scott demanded.

“That technology doesn’t exist, sir.”

“Damn...”

“It isn’t moving,” Sam observed.

“Well if he really has been intercepted then he probably isn’t in the suit anymore,” Steve postulated. It made sense. Terrifying, terrible sense.

“It looks like there are people moving around it,” Natasha noted.

“If that’s the terrorist cell it looks like we can’t let them get their hands on the tech!” Bruce insisted.

“Then we don’t let them,” Steve replied. Stephen could hear the smug grin in his voice. “Jarvis-”

“Already on it, sir,” Jarvis responded, and the autopilot was switched off.

Steve and Scott blasted away almost instantly, barreling straight at their target. Natasha, Sam and Clint quickly assessed their surroundings and followed. Stephen was about to do the same, barking at Jarvis to _go the fuck after them,_ but Bruce managed to collide into his chest, and the two went tumbling after the others, far behind.

“Please, no, not a nosedive!” Bruce wailed, disentangling himself from Stephen’s suit.

“Then steer, Bruce!” he snapped.

“Sorry, no, you’re right-” Bruce managed to right himself, trajectory wobbly as they followed the misty contrails left behind. “I’m just stressed.”

_For good reason,_ Stephen thought, but he wasn’t about to freak the man out even more.

At first the textures of the mountain range had been distant, nearly vague, hanging behind late-morning clouds. Now Stephen could make out individual contours, where snow ended and rock began, where there was scattered vegetation and where the sand licked the base of the mountain like waves against a volcano, then individual grains-

He hit the ground _hard._ None of them landed very gracefully, ricocheting and rolling to a stop. Stephen’s ears rang, the harsh metal of the suit jarring his limbs and his skin, his hands _god_ that hurt-

“Maybe we should have practiced that landing...” Sam sat up, rubbing the back of his helmeted neck.

“Or added some padding,” Scott supplied, a cascade of sand falling from his shoulders as he stood, hopping a few times to get the jitters out.

“They _had_ to have seen us coming, guys,” Bruce reminded them, trying to shove a loose gauntlet back into place and stand up at the same time, losing his balance and falling down. Stephen decided to take things step by step, slowly dragging himself to his feet. Vision spinning, he took a deep breath, then two. Better. “These things aren’t fully equipped to handle military-grade weaponry, let alone withstand-”   
  
“No offense Bruce, but we get your point,” Steve interrupted, raising his visor to squint at their target. It was still far off, but that was better than crashing _directly_ into it. “We still have enough distance to spread out and head in subtly.”   
  
“What’s the plan, hotshot?” Natasha asked. Stephen’s stomach flipped, his mental codex flipping through all the memories of Tony calling him that name, and other ridiculous epithets-

“They probably have a lock on us already, so I suggest we move quickly and scatter.” Clint’s words were taut like a wire. Made sense, if there were rockets trained in their direction as his words suggested.

“Alright.” Steve nodded firmly, turning around to face them all. “Two of us will hang back. The rest will approach on different trajectories. It’ll be the easiest way to distract and confuse them while Tony’s extracted.”

_Extracted._ A cold, unfeeling word, but none of them could risk being emotionally compromised. This was far too important.

“What should we do, like, go on the count of three?” Scott suggested. Bouncing on his heels again, he somehow radiated juvenile energy, even through layers of metal. “Alright, one-”

“Twothreego!” Clint finished, and they were off, the ground quaking with momentous force.

Stephen’s teeth rattled as air screamed past his ears, the faceplate of the Mark I rattling violently. Despite all he could hear his wheezing breath, feel tears of discomfort prick at his eyes, but he couldn’t think now, couldn’t _feel_ now, not when Tony-

“Woah woah, hang back with me!” Bruce insisted, entwining their gauntlets, as if the two were holding hands, letting the others rocket ahead. “We’ll take care of Tony, alright?”   
  
“Right,” Stephen assented, yelling and screaming wafting towards them as the others hit their mark, kicking up dirt and dust. Heart skipping a beat as gunshots rang ahead of them, Stephen took a deep breath, told Jarvis to prep the medical programs and launch all safety protocols they had.

“Sir, not all systems designed for the Mark II are compatible with-”  
  
“Give me what you’ve got!” he demanded.

“Take it easy, Stephen!” Bruce advised. “We’ve got a visual lock on Tony, look at your screen!”

Stephen’s heart wrenched up his throat as his sight narrowed on Tony’s form. Jarvis was projecting the footage from Nat’s suit into the rest of theirs. Clothes torn. A bag over his head. Being roughed around, retreating farther into the cave as his captors panicked, farther away from them, away from _Stephen._ Steve and Clint and Sam ducked in and out of view, whizzing by, swiping up thugs and throwing them across the sand, knocking over equipment and wreaking as much havoc as they could.

And there was Tony.

“Waitwait, Stephen! What if the army-”

Stephen didn’t stick around to hear the rest.

He flew so fast his ears popped. Eyes stung by sand and rapid wind as his faceplate cracked, letting sunlight and hot air in, peeling at his eyelids and lips and Stephen screamed-

The tunnel swallowed him.

Blinding light was swapped for complete, hollow darkness, and Stephen ground to a halt, heels dug into the dirt and arms thrown in front of his now-uncovered face. A shriek left his lips as he collided with the nearest wall.

_“Stephen!”_

Stephen’s heart skipped a beat, and he blinked furiously to adjust his eyes, enough to make out the outlines of guns and goons and _Tony._ “Jarvis, now!” he screamed. Unfolding his arms, Stephen raised the gauntlets and aimed, letting Jarvis do the work. Bullets whistled and popped against his armor and the cave walls around him, but the beams tore through their targets with ferocious kickback. Thrown to the floor, Stephen grunted, but dragged himself to his feet just as quickly. _“Tony-!”_

A solid, living mass tossed itself against his chest, the man’s arms wrapped around him like a vice. Somehow the hood had come off, and Stephen could feel Tony’s stubble against his own as they fell back against the floor.

“Right here, babydoll,” Tony breathed.

Letting his head fall back against the rocks, Stephen sighed with relief. Tony was here. Still in one piece. Maybe traumatized, but coping enough to offer a pet name. Good enough for now. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Stephen, Tony, you in there?” Scott’s voice echoed around the cave walls.

“Yeah-” Stephen cleared his throat before projecting louder. “Yeah, we’re in here!”

“Great! Give us a hot second!” Scott’s suit audibly faded away, and the pair of them waited with bated breath.

Tony chuckled. “What’s he doing, d-”

An ear-shattering _boom_ cut Tony off, making Stephen’s teeth rattle and his throat burn. The ground rumbled disgruntledly, and the light filtering in from the entrance of the cave distinctly grew darker with soot and smoke.

“Alright, all done!” Scott called, the _thump thump thump_ of his suit’s boots growing louder as he approached.

Stephen couldn’t help the hysterical bark of laughter that ripped up his throat, and Tony produced a matching one. Together they dragged themselves to their feet and stumbled towards Scott.

“One obligatory explosion later…” Scott had taken his helmet off, smiling a doofy smile at his mock-narration. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”   
  
“Yeah, we agreed on that already,” Tony snapped, though there was a puzzled and good-natured smile on his face. Stephen could give less of a shit who said what, he just wanted to _leave._

Once the team was fully assembled outside they blasted off, heading towards the glint of army-green metal in the distance. Stephen was never more glad to see the U.S. flag in his life.

As soon as they touched down he turned his brain off.

 

* * *

 

Stephen must have slept for _ages._

All of them did. Tony slept the longest - not surprisingly, very understandably. Stephen didn’t mind laying in bed with him for two straight days, carefully cuddling him as the man continued dozing. Tony had a concussion and some large bruises (he insisted Stephen not call them _contusions,_ reminding him of their conversation the last time he was injured, since the name made it sound _much_ too serious), but was otherwise devoid of serious injuries. So they finally slept until they were tired of sleeping.

It was only a week later that Tony locked away all the Iron Man suits, except the Marks I and IIA.

“I think it’s safe to say we will _not_ be cranking these out.” Tony closed and locked the final bulk container, made of the same metal the suit inside was. Eleven of them stood in a loose ring in Tony’s garage. “Ever. Except-”

“No.” Stephen squeezed his arm firmly, but made sure to keep a marginally-loving smile on his face.

“Right, right, sorry. I will refrain from getting myself into any life-or-death struggles that require my employees to chase after me.” Tony had a sheepish grin on his face, though there was a measure of insecurity caged behind his eyes. Stephen gave him a delicate kiss on the cheek.

“ _And…?”_ he prompted.

Rolling his eyes, Tony continued. “ _And_ I’ll only fly within the city limits. And leave the development of the evacuation suits to Obie. And not fly said evacuation suits.”

Stephen nodded his head, very satisfied. Knowing they had come to a solid, reasonable agreement to accommodate both of their needs and worries comforted him. Stephen didn’t have to worry about his boyfriend flying into warzones, and Tony could continue using his suit (mostly for advertising) in New York City.

“So, remind me why you’re keeping the Mark I?” Stephen inquired, turning towards the two remaining suits - the original and the first copy. “Isn’t the Mark II better?”

“Yep,” Tony confirmed. “But I like them both equally. And you never know. Maybe you’ll want to-”   
  
“Unlikely,” Stephen interrupted. He simply could not imagine himself willingly putting on an Iron Man suit ever again.

Shrugging, Tony pulled him off to the side. “Fair enough.” Plopping down in his cushioned swivel-chair, Tony dragged Stephen down to sit on his lap. Stephen obliged with a raised eyebrow. “So,” Tony prefaced. “I was thinking - you know the program you used to imprint those surgical procedures into Jarvis’ database? I was thinking of creating an overlay based on those programs, but instead of the suits it would be programmed into a pair of gloves. Thin, blue gloves like the kind you’d normally wear for a procedure.” Tony spoke as if Stephen was an actual surgeon, and it made him frown, but he was too curious to interrupt this time. “If I patented the design you could use the gloves and go back to school. Get your degree.”

Stephen let his gaze fall out of focus, biting his lip and considering. Tony was offering him a chance to pursue his wildest dreams on a silver platter. Finishing medical school, becoming a world-famous neurosurgeon, dating Anthony Edward Stark, and living happily ever after.

The longer he sat, the fuzzier the vision became. Maybe that had been his dream, once-upon-a-time. Not so long ago, actually. But as his fantasy faded his future became clear.

That wasn’t his dream anymore.

“Maybe,” he answered, reminding himself of the ‘maybes’ floating in his head as Obadiah pressured him to go after Tony. He’d given a definite answer after those maybes: yes. Now, Stephen was using this maybe to mask a ‘no.’

There was something else out there. A way he could retrieve his hands, his abilities, and reach far beyond the title ‘Doctor’ - something greater, beyond the stars. Beyond the blue.

Maybe.

 

* * *

 

find me on tumblr @[androgynousmeme](https://androgynousmeme.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on updating weekly -
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
